Burying the Hatchet
by ShyLight
Summary: In all of the years that Ratchet threatened to rebuild them as different things, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker never would have dreamed that he’d actually follow through. They were careless in battle one too many times and Ratchet intends to teach a lesson
1. The medic's wrath

Damn you plot bunnies!

I can't help it. When something eats away at my head I have to put it down or it will drive me crazy.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Never will. Plot's mine.

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"I love the beach," Sideswipe sighed whimsically.

"I hate the beach," Sunstreaker grunted perturbed.

"How can you hate the beach? This is one of the best places on this dirtball!" Sideswipe whipped his head in his twin's direction and gave him an astonished look.

"Easy. The sand scrapes, the salt corrodes, the sun bleaches and the water rusts. And don't get me started on those flying rats…" Sunstreaker groused.

"Seagulls, Sunny. They're called seagulls."

"Well, whatever they are, they need to keep their excrements to themselves. If those beady eyed, squishy turkeys even dare to _think_ of flying overhead of me I _will_ gun them all down." Sunstreaker glowered at the offending white and grey birds. One squawked and circled a little to close to the gold mech for comfort, and he fingered where his rifle was.

The red mech eyed his brother's sudden, tense movement. "I don't think Beachcomber would appreciate you using his little feathered buddies as target practice. Remember that squirrel?"

"Okay, that was completely not my fault. The stupid, suicidal fuzzy was the one that hurled itself in front of me while I was driving."

"You would've run over it too if it hadn't been for 'Comber running you off the road. For a Dune Buggy he packs a punch in vehicle mode doesn't he?"

"He dinged my door!" Sunstreaker snarled at the memory.

"Yeah, but he saved you from getting a new hood paintjob via organic guts."

Sunstreaker twisted his face in disgust. "Ok. Ew. Let's change the subject. I don't want to think of organic innards thank you…and, Primus, those beagles are staring at me again."

"They're seagulls, and no they're not."

"They better not be. My poor abused chassis. Haven't I suffered enough already today?"

"Nope. The universe decided you haven't filled your angst quota for the day so it sent its demonic flock of Earth birdies to torture you further," Sideswipe quipped mockingly.

"Wise-ass."

"Hard-ass."

"Pit spawn."

"Why thank you!" An unpleasant crunching noise emitted from Sideswipe's arm as he moved it, making him wince "…ouch, I have sand in my arm joints."

"Told you the beach is crummy," Sunstreaker responded flatly.

"Tape it to a brick and shove it up your exhaust pipe... and help me get the sand out. It's really grinding in there." Sideswipe grimaced as he heard the screeching of crushed sediment scrape inside his elbow.

"Do it yourself," Sunstreaker snapped haughtily.

"…" Sideswipe replied by giving his brother a rather unkind look.

Understanding dawned on Sunstreaker. "Oh right. I forgot."

"How did you forget? My freakin-" Sideswipe was cut off sharply by his brother.

"Look you want help or not? I just gotta get over there… my poor paintjob." Sunstreaker dragged himself over to his twin and took a look at his arm, "You're buying me a new canister of polish later."

"I'm feeling generous, and since you're my loving bro I'll sweeten the deal and take you to a car wash too. I'll even get you your favorite: the deluxe wash, extra buffing, with a towel dry and a hold on the cheesy, smelly pine tree ornament. I'll pay for everything." the red mech flashed a crooked smile as Sunstreaker got to work on removing the sand.

"Of course you will. That's because we never pay for them anyway. It goes to the Autobot's tab." Sunstreaker kept his optics fixed on his brother's elbow.

"Well, then you can thank Prowl for it. He's the one in charge of our mullah – Ouch! Careful! There's delicate circuitry in there," he whined.

"Shut up. What, do you have another freaking beach in your elbow? How is all of this sand in there?"

"Must've been the landing. That wasn't one of our most impressive displays of action was it?" Sideswipe flinched again when Sunstreaker hit a sensitive spot.

"Nope. None of that battle turned out that great actually." The gold mech worked diligently on digging all of the sand out of his brother's joints, letting the fine grains spill into an ever growing pile bellow. After he removed as much of the coarse substance as he could, he flicked his gaze over to the sea.

It really was a pretty sight. The sparkling black waters reflected the reds, golds, oranges and purples of twilight. It was a beautiful merging of colors that all seemed to flow together like watercolors on canvas. Sunstreaker, despite his vehement rant of hating the beach, could appreciate the scenery as an artist. The soft reds and pale purples really did compliment each other nicely…

He shook the thought out of his head as soon as it came; replacing it with one of how the colors were an ugly clash.

Purple was a Decepticon color. Red was an Autobot color. It was like oil and water; fire and gas. The two would never truly be able to merge.

"Hey, Sunny?" Sideswipe lazily lolled his head against his brother's shoulder.

"What?" came the gruff reply.

"I'm getting pretty tired. My energy intakes are pretty low. I think the leakage was worse then we thought." Sunstreaker went silent at his brother's words.

"Mine are too," he admitted after the brief quiet. "Our beacon is still on right?"

"Yup. Since we sent it out nearly an hour ago they should be finding us pretty soon. I'm kinda relieved too, cuz as much as I like the beach here in Venezuela, I would like to be getting home." Sideswipe flexed his arm experimentally, before dropping it to his side and letting his hand rest on the soft sand.

"You should recharge," Sunstreaker said it as more of a command then a suggestion.

"Awww. Is my big ol' ray of sunshine concerned?" Sideswipe tilted his head back and gave a lopsided, tired grin.

"You need to save energy. You lost a lot because -"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Mom," Sideswipe grumbled as he snuggled back closer to his brother. "You're not in a much better condition you know."

"But I still _am_ in a better condition then you," Sunstreaker pointed out.

"I guess I will just offline my optics for an astrosec." Sideswipe's bright blue optics dimmed ever so slightly.

Sunstreaker listened to the soft whirring and humming of his twin's systems as they slowed down to the less demanding recharge mode. Sunstreaker didn't let it show, but he was slightly concerned with their situation.

His thoughts didn't linger on it though. They would be ok.

"Hey, Sunny?" Sideswipe's voice began sleepily.

"Yeah, Sides?"

"Ratchet is gonna be pissed at us," Sideswipe smirked. "Actually, he's probably already furious."

"Furious? He is going to kill us later," Sunstreaker moaned.

"I bet he's already ordering the grave plots," Sideswipe sniggered darkly at the thought.

"What makes you think he'll give us graves? He'll probably dump us into some obscure ravine to hide the evidence."

"More likely, he'll rebuild our lifeless bodies as alarm clocks and sell us to a dime store."

"Says you," Sunstreaker growled. "As the soon to be most beautiful alarm clock on Earth, I will be worth much more then ten cents."

Both of them chuckled. They could barely keep track of all of the things Ratchet threatened to turn them into. They continued to reminisce their favorite death threats from the medic until Sideswipe succumbed to fatigue and fell into a much needed recharge.

Sunstreaker glanced down at his sleeping twins and threw an arm around his brother's shoulder pulling him a little closer. He was worried. He was very worried even though he didn't let it show. But everything would be ok.

Ratchet would fix them. Ratchet always fixed them. They would be ok.

Sunstreaker himself began falling into a state of recharge. He didn't even notice that a seagull dared to venture into his personal bubble by landing, and sitting, on his shoulder.

It was only a few minutes after he began to recharge as well that Skyfire landed on the beach. Prowl, Tracks, and Skids jumped out of the large flyer and instantly located the two warriors. Prowl was the first to reach them and he grimaced when he did.

Not only were the twins riddled with scrapes, gashes, dings and various nicks, Sideswipe had gotten his left arm blown off from his shoulder and Sunstreaker lost his left leg from below the knee.

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To say that Ratchet was pissed was severe understatement.

He was livid.

He had heard everything that had happened in the battle.

The Decepticons had attacked a huge hydroelectric power plant in Itaipu, Brazil. Skyfire and his passengers, Prowl, Tracks, Skids, Warpath and the twins were sent to thwart Megatron's domination plan of the week. They had reached near the end of Central America when they were intercepted and attacked by the seekers.

Skyfire could have easily out run them since he was faster and had a more powerful engine. They could have easily sped by the jets with no conflicts or skirmishes and would've been able to get to their objective faster.

Alas, things did not go that way. The twins always acted before their thoughts could catch up.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker ignored Prowl's vehement ranting that was against any brash or foolhardy actions from them, jumped out of Skyfire, and attempted to kamikaze the jets.

Since the situation in Itaipu was reaching a critical point, Skyfire did not have time to stop and turn around to go after Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, and none of the autobots inside of him could follow the twins either because of the height they were at. They could only hope that the two did not get shot up too badly and look for them later.

So they had to leave them behind until further notice.

After they had beaten Megatron and his cronies, they were able to detect a distress beacon that the two had sent out. When they found them, they both looked like they had gotten chewed up by a garbage disposal and were spat back out. There was enough superficial damage on them both to put them in slightly grave states, and their destroyed limbs added onto that greatly.

So, when the twins were dragged into the medical bay by Prowl and Warpath, while he was severely pissed off by the event, Ratchet was not all that surprised to see them in such a state.

There were so many times where the twins could have easily avoided injury if they had just thought about where they were doing. So many times where they threw themselves haphazardly into battle with out thinking of the repercussions of their acts. And when they fragged themselves beyond recognition, it was Ratchet who was left to pick up the pieces (literally sometimes).

Perhaps that was why they kept doing it. Because they knew no matter what state they got themselves into, Ratchet would fix them. Ratchet would always fix them. No matter how injured they would get themselves, even if they were nearly on deaths door, they could depend on good ol' Ratchet the hatchet to bring them back to see another day.

Another day to live and enjoy life's simple pleasures. Another day to laugh, joke and wreak havoc on the Ark. Another day to get medical equipment pitched at their heads. In their optics, Ratchet could fix anything, and the CMO would not let anyone die while he was around.

The ugly truth, however, was that Ratchet was not infallible, and sometimes he was afraid there would come a time that he wouldn't be able to bring someone back. After all, a good portion of the medical field was sheer dumb luck.

And out of all of the 'bots in the Ark, Ratchet feared it would be the twins who where under his care when lady luck finally decided to turn her head away from him.

They both, after all, had the undisputed record of most hours being reconstructed and fixed. They almost spent more time in the infirmary then Ratchet did.

Sometimes, Ratchet thought of just deactivating them himself just to get it over with.

But he couldn't do it. He knew he couldn't do it. Somehow, over the years, the twin terrors had managed to worm their slimy, evil, little glitchy selves into his Spark. He was ensnared by them which led to something he had tried so hard to avoid.

He cared. He cared too much.

That was why the thought of losing them scared him.

As he looked down at Sunstreaker's and Sideswipe's bodies on the medical tables he feared his luck may have just run out.

"You stupid, fragging morons. I warned you. I warned you all that we are running severely low on medical supplies right now," He didn't have enough equipment and spare parts to fix them both. Sunstreaker needed a severe casing, and armor repair, and Sideswipe needed an almost full body revamp, but between the two of them, Ratchet only had enough material and equipment to construct less then half a mech.

He had made an announcement to all of the Autobots to be extra careful in battle because the supplies run wouldn't be for another week. He told them all that they only had a little that they needed to stretch and make last. Yet it went through one audio processor and out the other, and the twins did not take the warning seriously. They went and did what they always did, and had gotten unnecessarily injured.

It was because in their minds, Ratchet could fix them. He could always fix them. But Ratchet might not be able to fix them now.

Ratchet covered his optics with his hands and thought. Even if he managed to repair them both, and screamed at them until his vocalizer was hoarse about how stupid and reckless they were in battle, the lesson would not be driven home. The twins would cringe, and nod in an attempt to speed Ratchet's rant up, but then they would go into battle again and act the same exact way. They would end up getting seriously hurt with injuries they could have easily avoided had they been a touch more careful, and Ratchet would then be stressing over their repairs again.

They needed a lesson, a _real_ lesson that would drive Ratchet's point home.

It was at that moment that Ratchet was hit by a stroke of genius, and a wondrous solution planted itself into his mind. One that would not only save the twins lives, but would also finally drill a much needed lesson into their thick helmets. A wicked grin crossed the medic's features as he stared down at the unconscious and unsuspecting forms of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

'_This'll teach those slaggin brats to think before they act,'_ He activated his comlink, "Autobot Ratchet to Prowl."

"Ratchet? How are the twins?" Prowls voice held up its professional air, but Ratchet knew he was also somewhat worried for the two. Prowl was another victim, like himself, that was ensnared by the twins charm.

"The glitches are still royally fragged. I want you to get me Sparkplug on the line."

"…Sparkplug?" Prowl asked uncertainly.

"Yes, and do it now. We don't have much time on our hands."

Oh yes. Ratchet would teach the two horrors a lesson, and he would enjoy every minute of it.

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First chapter done. I'm not entirely sure what direction this story is going to take. I'm sort of winging it at the moment. That's what happens when the plot bunnies of doom hit, but I figure I'll go with the flow.

Reviews are loved, CC appreciated, and flames used to toast marshmallows.


	2. The medic's judgement

Thank you all for the reviews!

I caught a cold XD. Still, with free time on my hands I was hit by inspiration, and so I bring you chapter two.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Never will. Plot's mine.

On with the fic.

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The first thing that Sideswipe thought when he woke up was, "The Ark needs a repaint."

The obnoxious orange colored paint on the ceiling was beginning to peal. That's probably what four million years at the weather's mercy, with no maintenance sessions, did. Perhaps they could repaint it a softer, cooler color like grey or blue.

Oh, but silly him. Generally the cool colors on the color wheel were reserved for Decepticons. That was another reason to add Decepticons to the hate list. Because of them, he got to stare at loud obnoxious orange.

Hazily, he noticed that the clanking of footsteps was nearing him. As he sorted his muddled thoughts he realized were he was and why.

'_Oh, slag. Ratchet is going to throttle me,_' Sideswipe internally winced as he heard something stop at his berth side. He weakly tilted his head in the direction of a large white mech and attempted a sweet, innocent smile in a vain attempt to gain some sympathy from the usually hell-bent doctor. Ratchet simply stared at him not betraying any signs of emotion on his face.

Sideswipe cringed knowing that it was the calm before the storm, and he mentally braced himself for what was coming. He could imagine it all and played the scenario out in his mind theater.

'_The Wrath of the Welder Harpy, starring Ratchet! Brought to you by Seeker Slag Enterprises, and Produced by Dead-Lambo-Walking Productions!' the title flashed cheerily. The mental curtains parted, and the imaginary flick started._

_Ratchet's livid face appeared, his dark optics flashing dangerously, "You fraggin glitchy idiot! No, actually, calling you an idiot would be an insult to stupid people! What did I tell you?! I said be careful, and what do you do? You get your aggravating self slagged! I would be in my right mind to rewire you into a table lamp!" the mental Ratchet screamed._

_Then mental Sideswipe cowered under the explosive wrath, attempting to placate the furious white mech with ill attempts at humor. The medic cooled down enough to take careful aim and pitched a wrench at Sideswipe, hitting him square between the optics before leaving the medical bay in an angry flurry. Probably in search of high grade._

As the internal movie darkened, and the credits began to roll, Sideswipe mentally sighed and hoped Ratchet's raving wouldn't take to long this time. He wanted to go find Sunstreaker so they could finish the game of Halo they had started before the Itaipu power plant thing. Sunstreaker still had plus three kills on him, and that did not sit well with the competitive, red transformer.

Ratchet opened his mouth, Sideswipe braced himself for the imminent verbal onslaught, and… "How are you feeling?" the medic asked flatly.

That one sent Sideswipe for a loop.

"Are you feeling any types of pain? Dizziness?" he continued.

Ratchet, the mech whose bedside manner was infamous and openly feared by all (even Optimus Prime), was being…pleasant and nice? What?!

Sideswipe opened his mouth but the words were caught in his vocalizer.

"Most of your neural influx systems were damaged from, I'm guessing, being exposed to Starscream's null ray too many times. Your outer casing and armor reinforcements were decimated as was your arm. The strain of energon loss damaged some of your circulatory systems," the medic drawled on and on, speaking with a crisp proficient tone that sounded almost…bored.

There was no screaming, colorful cursing, or creative name calling. There was no throwing of his almighty tool arsenal with his legendary dead-on accuracy. There wasn't even a hint of irritation in his voice. He just continued to list through all of the horrible things that had happened to Sideswipe with a sort of detached professionalism.

That freaked Sideswipe much more then the usually apocalyptic rants the medic typically threw. At least _those_ had a pattern to them. Those were familiar. This, indifference Ratchet was using was not in the norm, and it disturbed him. He found himself wanting Ratchet to scream at him, telling him that he was an idiot, that he shouldn't do stupid things like he had, and threatening him with all of the things he would rebuild Sideswipe as. Raging was how the medic showed he cared.

…did that mean Ratchet did not care about him anymore? Did he finally give up on the twins?

It was like he had stepped into the Twilight Zone (Sideswipe blamed the reference on Wheeljack who was responsible for getting him addicted to the Sci-Fi channel). Perhaps Sideswipe didn't wake up after all. Perhaps he was still in stasis…or dead. But this didn't seem like the Matrix. The Matrix would have high grade. Lot's and lots of high grade. And if it was the pit, there would be falcons, but that was a different story for another time.

As he tried moving, an unpleasant, strange, and foreign feeling ache ran through his body. _'Okay, so I am awake. But then why is…Oh hell. What happened?'_

In panic, Sideswipe sat up quickly and swayed. He lifted his legs over the edge of the medical table and dropped down expecting his feet to meet the floor.

The floor was a lot farther down then he remembered it being.

He slid off the table completely and crashed onto the ground in a heap.

Sideswipe began to panic, and he scrambled to his hands and knees looking around wildly. Everything looked bigger, taller.

Regaining his senses, he stood up to his full height.

He found himself staring at Ratchet's midsection.

This was wrong. Sideswipe, one of the largest mechs in the ark, was basically optic to crotch against one of the shortest non-minibot 'Bots in the arch. Were his legs damaged? In his energon loss delirium did he imagine getting his arm blown off while it was really his legs? But when he looked down his feet were still there as were his legs.

But to his horror, while being somewhat the same, they were different.

Numbly, he looked up at the medic who, while expressionless, had an evil glint in his optics. An evil glint of satisfaction.

"What the, SLAG!" Sideswipe screeched, and then instantly slapped his hands over his mouth when a high pitch tenor erupted from his vocalizer.

Though he kept a poker face, Ratchet could not hide the delight laced in his dark aquamarine optics. "You need to calm down. You just got-"

"What did you do?" Sideswipe squeaked before hiccupping in horror. He ran past Ratchet and looked for the closest shiny surface he could find.

He stared at his reflection slack jawed.

If there was one way to describe him it was absolutely adorable.

He was shorter than half his original height roughly the size of a tall minibot at best. While he sort of resembled his former appearance, his casing was not as bulky, his build was sleeker and softer looking and he was lacking excessive armor and equipment. His face was rounder and more childish and his light blue optics seemed bigger and held the innocents of a curious child.

A highly pissed of child.

"What the hell did you do?" Sideswipes voice screeched shrilly, spiking up a few octaves with each word. Now he knew why Ratchet didn't threaten to rebuild him as something else because he got hurt.

Ratchet actually _had_ already built him as something else.

"You got your internals fragged and needed extensive repairs. Unfortunately I did not have enough equipment to repair your body." Ratchet shrugged masterfully hiding his amusement with nonchalance.

"This is a down grade!" Sideswipe screamed in horror at his new form.

"It's only temporary," Ratchet replied calmly. "I based this form off a human child's. It's designed for energy conservation, not for combat. I'd advise not getting into any skirmishes. Building this form used up the last of the supplies we had. Besides, considering your persona I think it's quite fitting." '_A brat's body for a juvenile mind.'_

"No one is going to let me live this down if they see me. You could've waited for more equipment! Why did you do this?" Sideswipe cried indignantly, "Put me back in my old body! I can survive being armless for a week!"

"It was much more complex then that. The next supply run is in a week and you weren't going to last more than a few more hours," Ratchet stated seriously. That shut Sideswipe up, "Your internals were under severe stress and you were going to die. I didn't have the supplies I needed to complete the repair your body needed. So, I made you a body out of what I _did _have to keep your spark in until I can get more materials to fix your old one. Since we only had a little, the temporary form also had to be little." Something about the cold indifference the medic used made Sideswipe cringe internally.

"You used all of the equipment on me but… Sunstreaker! He was hurt too. Where is he!?" Sideswipe bolted around the med bay searching for his MIA brother, calling his name frantically.

"He's fine. Shut up." Ratchet rubbed his temples suddenly thinking that giving Sideswipe a higher pitched vocalizer wasn't such a good idea (even though it completed the image oh so perfectly). It was doing a number on his audio receptors.

Not finding any traces of his sibling he ran up to Ratchet. "Where's is he?! Give me Sunstreaker you slaggin, sadistic surgeon!"

"That is no language for a child to, ow!" The small Sideswipe swiftly kicked Ratchet in the shins.

Ratchet growled and hoisted Sideswipe under his arm as if he was nothing more then a sack of flour. Sideswipe, unfamiliar with anything being able to lift him, was thrown off for several kliks before he began processing what was happening. Ratchet had marched halfway across the med bay by the time Sideswipe was able to sober up and respond to the CMO's actions with much flailing, kicking and screaming.

"Put me down! Where are you taking me! Primus, Damnit! I'll bite your ankles if I have to! Where is Sunstreaker? Sunstreaker!" Sideswipe tried pounding on the medic's side with his small fists, but the softer metal barely made even scratches on the malevolent Medic's paintjob.

"Quiet, you." Ratchet jerked the small mech under his arm in an attempt to acquire a better grip. "I'm putting you in timeout."

Sideswipe stopped hitting him long enough to utter, "Time what?" before Ratchet unceremoniously dumped him into the utility closet. The CMO slammed the door shut, locking Sideswipe inside.

Banging ensued and rather derogatory phrases and muffled curses began filtering through the metal door.

"Don't get your processors in twist you brat. I'm going to get Sunstreaker. He's at Sparkplug's mechanic shop. Since I used all of the Cybertronian equipment on you since it was your internals damaged, I had to get something else to replace Sunstreaker's externals."

The pounding on the metal door stopped as Sideswipe thought about it.

If Ratchet did what he did to him, who knows what he did to Sunstreaker.

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When Sunstreaker's optics came online, he was greeted by a blinding light, "Just wonderful. I died," He groaned and threw an arm over his optics. Did his limb feel a little heavier?

"Not quite, but the Deceptijunk sure did a number on you." Sunstreaker lifted his arm and turned his head over to see the small, rotund human called Sparkplug. He was wiping soot and oil off of his hands with a worn, greasy, pink rag.

"Why is it so bright?" Sunstreaker groaned sitting up. His feet touched the floor with a clank. Ratchet must've repaired his legs.

"Florescent light bulbs. They're the only things that can light this place decently. By the way, you're in my auto garage." Sparkplug waved his hand, emphasizing their location.

Sunstreaker looked around, saw he was indeed in a mechanic garage, and scowled. It was a narcissistic 'Bot's worst nightmare. The concrete floor was covered with greasy stains and puddles of shimmering oil. Greasy car parts and rusted vehicle shells littered the place, dirt and dust were smeared on the walls, and the large garage smelt strongly of exhaust.

"What the slag am I doing here? How come I'm not at the Ark?" Sunstreaker drew his legs up onto the metal platform he was sitting on, and tried scooting farther back on the table to get away from all of the dirty substances that potentially threatened his casing.

Sparkplug began walking closer to the giant Autobot. "Well it's kind of a long story and Ratchet told me to wait…"

"Oi, grease monkey! Stop right there, back away, and get your griminess away from me!"

Sparkplug halted and let out a nervous laugh, "Eheh. Trust me Sunstreaker. A little dirt's probably the least of your worries right now."

Sunstreaker looked at him quizzically for a moment then turned his head as the hollow sound of metal rattling resonated behind him. Ratchet lifted the metal garage door up and entered.

For some reason Sunstreaker began to imagine the Imperial March playing as the medic strode closer to him. Those thoughts snowballed, and a weird scene entered his head.

He imagined Ratchet in a black paint scheme, wearing a long, tacky, billowing, black cloak. Mental Ratchet lifted a shiny black hand and clenched it tightly in front of him, _'(Kwwshee) Sunstreaker (Kwwshee) I am your father!'_

'_No! No, it's not possible!'_ Sunstreaker thought horrified. Suddenly, he realized the absurdity of his thoughts and blamed it on Skywarp for kneeing him so hard in the back of the head in their earlier battle, _'That's the last time I watch a Star Wars marathon with Wheeljack.'_ He vowed.

"Sunstreaker?"

The aforementioned mech quickly snapped out of his thoughts as he realized Ratchet was standing directly behind him with an unreadable expression across his face, _'Great. My audios are screwed.' _He prepared himself for the verbal assault, and prayed to Primus that Ratchet would be gentle on his chassis when he would finally unleash his tool arsenal.

"How are you feeling?" the medic asked professionally.

That was new. Sunstreaker stared.

…and stared.

…and stared some more.

Ratchet simply gazed at him with a patient, expecting look on his face. Sunstreaker did not like it and shifted uncomfortably in the silence. Finally he said flatly, "You're not yelling."

Ratchet chuckled softly causing Sunstreaker to flinch. For some reason, happy Ratchet was scarier then angry Ratchet.

"Now why would I yell?" Ratchet asked coolly. He moved around the table, Sunstreaker watching him like a hawk all the while, and stopped in front of the warrior mech. "Lucky for you your inner systems weren't to badly fragged. That was good since I had to use the little equipment we had in 'repairing' Sideswipe's internal damage." Sunstreaker gripped the side of the table so hard; Ratchet thought that the metal would snap.

"Sideswipe?" he asked worriedly suddenly realizing that he hadn't seen his twin since he awoke.

"Oh, he's fine. I _fixed_ him," Ratchet stated. Sunstreaker detected a smirk in the medic's voice, "You, on the other hand, had a different kind of problem. You had a lot of superficial damage, and your casing had to be completely replaced."

Sunstreaker slowly looked into the medic's optics. "You just said you used everything fixing Swipes."

"I did," Ratchet responded, "I had to be a bit… creative in repairing you. That's sort of why you're here."

Warning flags went up in Sunstreaker's mind.

He pointed an accusing finger at the CMO, "What did you-" he choked on his words and froze as he caught sight of his arm.

So, once again, he stared.

…and stared.

His arm was no longer sleek, glossy and gold. It was slightly bulkier, dull, and brown. He shakily let it drop to his side and stared blankly ahead. With out a word he stood from the table he had been sitting on and walked across the dirty floor he had tried so fervently to avoid only a few moments before.

Sparkplug watched him nervously, and Ratchet watched him amused.

Sunstreaker reached the entrance that Ratchet had entered through and pulled down the rattling steel door to the floor. Gracefully, he stood up and looked at his reflection in the metal.

He still had his same shape for the most part, and his head was the same. However, every part of his armor that had been gold was instead an ugly, dull brown that was scratched, scuffed and dented. His legs and arms had strange bulky panels attached to the sides that looked like faux wood, and door panels were attached awkwardly to his form. To add the cherry on top, his famous glossy finish was nonexistent and dull.

Ratchet watched the 'Bot in fascination as he scrutinized his reflection. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting from the vain mech.

Truth be told, Sunstreaker was speechless with horror.

The once-yellow warrior numbly decided to transform.

The whirring of metal plates twisting, and the clicks of metal parts rearranging them selves filled the dead silence of the mechanic workshop. With a few more snaps and clinks the transformation sequence stopped.

Where Sunstreaker had stood, a brown, Buick Roadmaster Stationwagon, complete with faux wood side panels, suddenly occupied his place.

Sunstreaker transformed back to his bipedal mode and began to quietly stare at his reflection again.

"You know. He's actually taking this a lot better then I thought he would," Sparkplug commented. Ratchet did not look at the human in acknowledgment, and continued to stare at the younger mech.

Suddenly Sunstreaker's head tilted upward slightly, he began leaning back on his heals, and the rest of him pitched backwards landing sprawled on the grimy floor with a heavy thud. He was out like a light before he ever hit the ground.

Sparkplug groaned, and slapped a calloused hand over his eyes. "If he wakes up and squishes me for my involvement in this, I'm going to haunt you for eternity."

"Don't worry. Sunstreaker won't hurt you," Ratchet assured.

"Out of all of the cars you wanted to use to repair him with, why that one?"

"I didn't want to inconvenience you by having you worry about getting this glitch something better. That was the only complete vehicle you had that didn't belong to somebody, and it was convenient," the medic replied with masked delight, "And these two brats have been proverbial thorns in my side for millenniums. I'm so slagging tired of lecturing them on the same things over and over again only for it to fall on deaf audios."

"I'm all for disciplinary actions. Trust me, as a father I know. Still, doesn't this seem a bit harsh?"

"They both brought this upon themselves." Ratchet crossed his arms and frowned. "I told them I didn't have the means to do extensive repairs right now and told to be careful. Neither of them listened to me and both of them got hurt badly. I just did what I had so they both would survive, and if they actually get something out of it great. Either way, they're just going to have to live with these forms until I can repair them properly." He stared at Sunstreaker's unconscious form.

Oh yes. He was going to enjoy this week very, _very_ much.

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Whoot! Chapter two is done. Still don't know where this story is headed but I'm getting some ideas.

So, yup. I wanted to turn Sideswipe and Sunstreaker into different things. Since their personalities are different I figured they would react differently to different things.

Any who, reviews are loved, ideas are welcomed, CC is appreciated, and flames are used to toast marshmallows.


	3. The medic's logic

Thank you all for the reviews!

Four days ago was my birthday! WHOOT! Sweet sixteen! I don't feel any different though. And I still can not drive XD.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Never will. Plot's mine though.

On with the fic.

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"I'm glad to hear they're okay, and this medical report is… interesting to say the least," Optimus started with a lack of better words. "Is this everything?"

Ratchet nodded tersely to Optimus.

"…a Stationwagon?" Optimus looked up from the report and at Ratchet quizzically.

Ratchet nodded again with a wry look

The commander set the pad down softly with a clink, and regarded the medic wearily.

"Ratchet, you know I know you are extremely skilled in what you do and I would never usually second guess your work, but are you positive that this was the only solution to fixing the twins?"

"We had limited resources and I made do with what was available. It's only for a week, anyway. The dimwitted duo will survive it." He shrugged nonchalantly.

Ratchet was just radiating 'ulterior motive'. Optimus could feel it.

Still, there were other problems at hand. Optimus leaned back in his chair, his mind clouded with ambivalent thoughts.

"This could be a bit of a problem," he finally said after a long while. "Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are excellent combative soldiers and the only mechs on this base, other then some of my officers, who are designed for combat. In our skirmishes with the Decepticons they both seem to be our lead fighters, and are two of the only mechs that are actually able to engage in combat affectively. With them both down, this is a blow to our forces."

"No disrespect Prime, but I'd rather them out of it for a week instead of _dead_ forever. I can fix a lot of things and I'm good at my job, Optimus, but I'm not _that_ good," was Ratchet's curt response.

"Yes, you're right. Their health should be priority no matter the…unusual circumstance of their recovery." There was a pause,_ 'I must remember to never get on Ratchet's bad side'_, "What are their conditions now?"

"Sunstreaker is currently in my med bay in stasis. Sideswipe is already awake."

"Good. Speaking of which, where is Sideswipe? Normally he's more verbal about his discomforts."

"Oh, he's probably still in the…" Ratchet let his words hang in the air. Quickly, he pivoted and bolted out of Optimus's office leaving a very confused Autobot commander in his wake.

Optimus sighed, thinking of the overall situation at hand. Given the twins personalities, it did not look good. "This does not bode well."

Obviously, Ratchet knew what he was doing though. Hopefully the twins would get something out of the unusual "experience". And hopefully there would be minimal property damage in the endeavor.

"But a Stationwagon?" Prime asked the air.

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Prowl must have read the same page over at least thirty two times and he still had no idea what it said.

Prowl having a difficult time concentrating on work was almost unheard of, but his thoughts were elsewhere and he just couldn't focus on the task at hand. Unfortunately for him, his mind was entrapped with certain thoughts he could not pull himself away from.

He hadn't heard anything regarding the twin's conditions since he patched a call to Sparkplug for Ratchet. No one had actually except for maybe Optimus. Yet it had been hours and it was starting to bother him.

He understood the severity of the situation. Repairing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe would be difficult given the circumstances, but Ratchet was flexible under harsh conditions.

That's what made him the best at what he did. If any one could fix the two, it was Ratchet.

At least Prowl hoped that would be the case.

"Hey. Knock, knock."

Prowl looked up and saw Jazz's grinning face. The black and white 'Bot rapped his knuckles against the door frame he was leaning against. Before Prowl could open his mouth to say something Jazz had already slid around the edge of the door and walked inside the office.

"I must inquire, what was the point of knocking if you let yourself in before a reply?" Prowl asked stoically.

"I thought you might wanna know how Sunny and Sides are doin'," Jazz answered.

Prowl tensed and Jazz chuckled. Even though Prowl tried to hide it, Jazz knew better. Deny it all he wanted the tactician had become attached to the twins over the last few millennia.

"What are their conditions?" Prowl asked as casually as he could. Alright, he was worried. So sue him. Could you blame him though? When he had found the two on the beach earlier they were both in horrible states. Missing limbs, torn armor, energon leaking into the golden sand dyeing the ground with unnatural shades of green and blue…

"They're fine now. Ratchet got them up n' runnin'." Prowl relaxed considerably with that news. However, when he looked at Jazz he couldn't help but notice that the Saboteur looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh about something. "Still…" Jazz trailed off.

Prowl waited for Jazz to elaborate but after several moments of silence it became apparent that he wasn't going to go any further. He just kept all of his amusement plastered behind a huge grin

"Is there something I should be informed of?" Prowl tried to incite a response. Jazz's smile simply got larger.

"Nothin' too big worth worryin' about. You'll see for your self later," Jazz replied equivocally.

'_You're hiding something Jazz. What is it?'_ "Good. When they're up and Ratchet declares them fit for duty, I want you to send them to me. I have a few choice words I wish to share." Oh yes. The twins were not going to get away with such a stupid stunt so easily.

"Trust me. I'm sure Ratch has that covered already." Jazz chuckled softly.

Prowl gave him a questioning look, but quickly replaced it with stern gaze, "I don't care. I want them in my office later."

"Whatever you say, Prowlie," Jazz responded cheerfully.

"Thank you Jazz, you may- wait. What did you say?"

"I said whatever you say, Prowl."

"That was rhetoric Jazz. You just called me…Prowlie."

"Did I now? Whoops, I guess I slipped up."

"You _slipped_ up?"

"Usually I just call ya that in my head or when you're not around."

"What?!"

"Well, I guess since ya know now you'll have no problems with me callin' ya that in public, right?"

"Jazz! You can't call me-"

"Sorry, but I gotta go. Gotta get the twins and what not. Later, Prowlie!"

"Wait! Get back here! Jazz? JAZZ!" Prowl called angrily but the Saboteur had already vanished out of the office.

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"I can not believe you left me in the closet!" a high pitched voice cried.

Sunstreaker groaned. He had a headache. The kind that covered his whole body and the shrill, faint voice echoing in his audios wasn't helping.

"Quit your whining, brat. Primus knows I probably should have left you in there longer." A second gruffer voice snapped back.

Slowly, Sunstreaker came online. Every thing was a hazy blur and his thoughts were still untangling themselves from the grip of stasis. _'What a nightmare,'_ He thought. He tried sitting up but found he was having difficulty doing so. Something was sitting on him.

"You forgot about me! Wait, hey, Sunstreaker? Sunny's waking up! Sunny?" the sweet, soft voice became clearer and clearer with each word.

Sunstreaker's optics began to reactivate. At first everything appeared to be only fuzzy shapes and shadows, but slowly the dancing images became clear and lucid.

He found himself staring at a huge pair of blue optics located only inches away from his face.

"Sweet, Primus!" Sunstreaker recoiled back off the edge of the birth taking the small mech with him. He pin wheeled his arms in a vain attempt to regain his failing balance but he still toppled off the edge and went shoulders first into the ground.

He scrambled up and flung whatever had been sitting on him off.

"Ouch! Sunstreaker!" An irritated voice shrieked.

Sunstreaker came to his senses and looked to see none other then his brother, but something was wrong. Sunstreaker sat in an uneasy silence watching his sibling grumble and pick himself off the floor. It was definitely Sideswipe, that was for sure. The mannerism and even appearance to an extent was the same. Yet something was just off and it took Sunstreaker less then a click to figure out what it was. He couldn't decide whether to say it or not but…

Oh, what the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Sideswipe. You're short," Sunstreaker said carefully. His now tiny brother whirled around to face him.

"Yes, Sunstreaker. I'm short." The small mech placed his hands on his hips in a pissy manner but only managed to look adorable.

Sunstreaker could not hold his straight face for very long. He was soon overcome by hysterics at his brothers expense. "AHAHAH! You look like a minibot!" He was floored with laughter.

Ratchet watched the interaction from the sidelines with a discreet smirk on his face.

Sideswipe narrowed his large optics, and gave his brother an icy glare (which was not very effective since his cute appearance made it look like he was pouting). "Well, your alt form is now a station wagon!" He declared insensitively.

Sideswipe couldn't help but smirk immaturely when Sunstreaker's mouth snapped shut. Silenced reigned as said mech stood and looked down at him self.

His armor was still a hideous brown, awkward, bulky, and adorned with faux wood.

It hadn't been a nightmare.

A horrified shriek erupted from Sunstreaker's vocals, and, at a speed that probably broke the sound barrier, he hightailed it to the Med Bay's utility closet, dove inside and slammed the door behind him. "Primus, it's horrible! My beautiful casing…you've butchered me Ratchet!"

Sideswipe ignored his brothers moan n' groaning, turned his attentions to the medic and attempted another pitiful glare.

"I get turned into the wonder bread poster child and all he gets is a freaking new paintjob? That's completely not fair!" Sideswipe whined to Ratchet. The medic happily ignored him.

"A new paintjob?! Sideswipe, I swear to Primus that when I'm presentable again I am going to mutilate you!" Sunstreaker raged through the door of the closet.

"Me? Ratchet's the one who rebuilt you as the abomination wagon!" Sideswipe jumped to his own defense.

"You're the reason we needed to be repaired in the first place. Ratchet said to be careful, but you just had to go and be stupid, didn't you!" Sunstreaker's words were muffled slightly because of the door, but Sideswipe heard them all clearly.

"_Excus_e me?" Sideswipe responded with a growing, defensive annoyance. "_I'm_ the reason we needed to be repaired?"

"YES! You're the idiot whose reflexes act faster then their CPU!" Sunstreaker spat hostilely.

Sideswipe was outraged. "I'm not the only one who jumped out of Skyfire!"

Sunstreaker's voice was saturated with spite and it steadily rose louder with each word, "I only jumped because you had, and I was going after you!"

"So, if I jumped off a cliff for no reason you'd jump after me?" the smaller twin questioned, disbelievingly.

"Of course I would, you idiot! You would do the same!" Sunstreaker bellowed.

All ire Sideswipe had had dissipated temporarily as he realized the simple yet profound truth in his brother's statement "…damn, you're right. We're not too bright about this whole following each other to the ends of the planet thing are we?"

"You could have at least been a _bit_ more tactical about your battle plan." Sunstreaker's anger also diminished slightly, but he was still irritated with the predicament.

"You said use your head."

"I meant it figuratively, not literally."

"Well sorry I didn't catch the specifics while I was plummeting _30,000_ ft with seeker's shooting at me!"

The arguing was quickly getting on a certain irascible medic's nerves.

"Both of you shut up!" Ratchet roared.

Both quieted, and so Ratchet was successful in ending the acrimonious dispute.

"You're both to blame for this," Ratchet explained coolly. "You both are too hap hazardous with your bodies because you expect me to fix you both when you're injured. You both are too careless in battles because I'm there to pick up the pieces. Well, I did what you both expected of me and fixed you, but like the humans say, you reap what you sow. I will restore your normal forms eventually, but until then you both will suffer the consequences of your actions."

Sideswipe looked down at his feet. Everything Ratchet had said was true. Sunstreaker was hit hard by the words as well and shrunk back further in the darkness of the closet.

'_Maybe having to endure this will finally teach you both to be careful,' _Ratchet thought with a melancholic hope.

A melodious voice cut through the dark emotions saturating the room like a cheerful ray of light. "Hey Ratch man!" Jazz hailed from the entrance, "You in here?"

In seeing Jazz, Sideswipe looked around frantically for a place to avoid being seen by the 'Bot. Hiding behind Ratchet sufficed.

"Come in Jazz. I was just having a little chat with twins." He glared over his shoulder at the small child mech behind him.

"Where are they?"

Ratchet sidestepped exposing Sideswipe.

"Aw, don't you look so cute," Jazz cooed. "Just like one a' those human kids."

'_Primus, strike me down now.' _Sideswipe's internals began heating up unbearably, and his casing burned from embarrassment.

"Sunstreaker's in the utility storage room," Ratchet relayed the former Lamborghini's location.

There was a bang. Apparently, Sunstreaker had kicked the door in agitation.

"Hey, Sunny, could you come out here?" Jazz asked kindly.

"No," Sunstreaker responded flatly.

"Sunny. I helped carry you back to the Ark. I've seen you already."

There was a pause and then the click of a lock unlatching. Sunstreaker hesitantly walked out, feeling unusually insecure of being seen. He quickly determined he did not like the feeling at all.

"Jazz! Does any one else know!" Sideswipe asked desperately. "Does anyone in the Ark know we look like this?"

"Nope. Just you two and Ratchet…Oh, and Optimus. Optimus does too," Jazz replied.

The twins let out a huge sigh in relief. News hadn't spread yet. If it did (or rather when it did) all hell would break loose they were sure.

"If we just stay in our room until Ratchet gets more supplies we'll be fine," Sunstreaker told his twin. Sideswipe agreed with the plan wholeheartedly.

They would never live this down if word got out.

"Oh, by the way. The reason I'm here is because Prowl wants ya'll ta go to 'is office," Jazz explained.

The relief the twins had briefly was replaced by horror.

Sunstreaker dove back into the closet, but before Sideswipe could bolt, Ratchet yanked him off his feet by the scruff of his neck.

"Ow! Let me go!" Sideswipe flailed. To avoid being hit by spastic limbs, Ratchet held him away at arms length.

"Sorry, buddy, but an order's an order no matter the situation. At least one of ya has ta go." Jazz shrugged.

Sideswipe began feeling an unusual hatred toward the sabotage specialist.

"Fine, I'll go," Sideswipe griped, "But don't tell anyone else of this!" he jabbed a finger at Jazz.

"Especially Bluestreak! If you tell Bluestreak everyone will know!" Sunstreaker yelled from inside the closet, "And Brawn! Don't tell Brawn either."

"All righty." Jazz couldn't help but grin at the twin's pitiful attempts to prevent the inevitable. Of course everyone was going to find out at some point. That's just how the Ark worked.

Ratchet set Sideswipe down. After his feet were securely on the ground, the small mech began to weigh his options. He could attempt running to his room and barricading the door…

"I'll escort ya to Prowl, Swipes. Just ta make sure ya don't make a break for it."

Damn.

The childlike 'Bot walked dejectedly to the door. He was followed by an amused Saboteur.

"…and Cliffjumper!" Sunstreaker added as an afterthought. "For the love of all that is holy do not tell Cliffjumper!"

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As silently and discreetly as possible, Sideswipe made his way to Prowl's office and miraculously was not seen by anyone.

Jazz was sufficiently entertained from watching as Sideswipe sidled walls, dodged open doorways, and slunk through every available shadow to avoid being seen in the already empty hallways. It was quite a funny sight.

"Forget carwashes and wax. Sunstreaker owes _me_," Sideswipe huffed as he army crawled past a window-like opening to Wheeljack's lab.

The two finally reached the door of Prowl's office.

Sideswipe had been to this location many times before. Usually, walking through these doors meant punishments, wrathful verbal berating and other all around unpleasant things, but he always took it in stride. Never before had Prowl's office looked as foreboding as it did now.

In order to cool his overheating systems, Sideswipe took in a deep breath that filled his intakes with icy air.

"Go ahead," Jazz urged with a soothing, mellow tone. "I'll wait out here."

Sideswipe took the plunge and pushed through the doors.

Prowl's fingers were tapping furiously on the keyboard of his computer at speeds that were hard to follow with Sideswipe's optics. He didn't even move as the small mech entered the room.

The tiny bot walked darkly to the second in command's desk with as much joy as one would have walking to the gallows.

Shoving down the foreboding feeling rising in his fuel tanks he spoke, "You wanted me?"

Startled, Prowl looked up from his desk and saw air.

"Down here," Sideswipe grumped agitatedly. Prowl looked over his desk and paused when he spotted him.

"Sideswipe?" He asked incredulously. The small, childlike mech shifted uncomfortably where he stood and directed his gaze everywhere except at Prowl. He grumbled something inaudibly in response.

Sideswipe never had to actually look up at his superior officer before and it unnerved him.

Prowl's logic circuits, at first, couldn't wrap around the concept but they began working fervently to understand the strange sight. After getting over the initial shock of seeing the once large mech in such a state, understanding dawned on Prowl. _'So this is what Jazz was alluding too. This is just…'_ For a split second, a smile ghosted on Prowl's lips. One word from the human language fit so well with the situation.

'_KARMA!' _

"You're short."

"Yes, Prowl. I realized that," Sideswipe hissed through clenched dental plating.

"I am glad to see your doing well," Prowl said with indifference (The statement did hold some truth in it though. He _had_ been worried about Sideswipe and Sunstreaker). "Where is Sunstreaker?"

"He's hiding in a closet." _'That fragger so owes me.'_

Prowl could only imagine what Ratchet had done to the vain mech. _'I must remember to treat Ratchet to some first-rate high grade later for this.' _"I was going to reprimand you and your brother for your actions earlier, but it seems that, for once, you've received a suitable punishment as did, I assume, your brother," Prowl said rather squarely. Sideswipe visibly flinched.

Prowl noted that the usually infuriating mech wasn't even attempting his usual banter. He wasn't testing how far he could push the Tactician's frustration with stupid remarks and sarcasm.

He wasn't as self-assured as he usually was.

"Prowl, on my brother's and my behalf I request a leave of absence for one week," Sideswipe stated as firmly and confidently as he could under the circumstances.

"Why? You seem perfectly functional to me. I gather that Ratchet has probably already declared you both fit for duty." Prowl's voice was its usual dispassionate timbre.

"Could you please release Sunstreaker and me from our obligation this week?" the small mech pleaded.

"No. You need to go to the command center for your monitor duty shift," Prowl said in an offhand manner. Sideswipe was horrified by the order.

"WHAT! You can't be serious. You can't actually expect me to go out there like….like this!" Sideswipe cried.

"Yes I do. And tell your brother he has patrol duty. After that, go to the command center." Prowl's tone held the epitome of seriousness in it.

Sideswipe's optics widened and his lower lip component trembled. Since this form was tinier and more innocent looking then his real one, the kicked robo puppy look was even more effective than usual, "Please…Please Prowl? I don't ask much? Just this one time can you let me shirk my job? Just for a week?" Sideswipe desperately tried pulling the 'I'm-cute-and-pitiful-so-bend-to-my-will' card.

Prowl was completely immune. "No. Go to the Command center."

"Come on, Prowl. I'll make it up when I'm fixed."

"No. Go to the command center."

"Have I told you how much you mean to me?"

"No. Go to the command center."

"Damnit, Prowl! I am not a mindless drone! I am a free, sentient mech and I refuse to be treated like scrap metal. Give me my damn leave!"

"No. Go to the command center."

"…sparkless, uptight, bastard."

Sideswipe didn't mute his insult low enough and Prowl caught every word of it.

Prowl went rigid and his fingers hovered above the keyboard. Relaxing some, he pushed his chair to the side a little so he was facing Sideswipe directly. He rested his elbows on his desk, laced his fingers and then set his chin on top of them.

Prowl bore an emotionless look on his face and he stared down into the small bots optics with a shrewd regard. Sideswipe gulped.

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Sunstreaker sat cross legged in the darkness of the closet. He looked up to where he knew the door was located when he heard knocking.

"Sunny?" The soft, childlike voice of his brother filtered through the door.

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah."

"Can we go hole ourselves up in our room now?"

"No."

"What?"

"I did accomplish _something_ though!"

"What?"

"We now have a double work shift."

A strangled scream of frustration echoed through the ARK.

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Oh, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. This is only the beginning.

I'm going to have to eventually post a picture of (as Akisawana so awesomely put it) HellChild!Sideswipe. The image is just too freakin adorable for words.

Reviews are loved, ideas are welcomed, CC is appreciated, and flames are used to toast marshmallows.


	4. The medic's mirth

Holy Beegebus an Update O O. Sorry for making you all wait. Evil real life junk was getting in the way.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Never will. Plot's mine though.

On with the fic!

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Ratchet was walking briskly to the security room. This would normally go unnoticed.

But he was humming, and it wasn't the imperial death march or funeral tunes; it was a soft rock song written by some obscure man named Rupert Holmes. It was something about some kind of earth drink and weather, but that didn't really matter much. It was a cheerful tune.

And the look on Ratchet's face was one of pure, airy joy.

On contrary to popular belief, outside of the med bay, Ratchet wasn't always ornery and grumpy. In fact he rather enjoyed having a good time and could be considered laid back.

The Ark's occupants knew this.

But the news that the twins had been brought back to the Ark completely fragged had spread like wild fire around the Autobot base, and no one had seen them since. When the twins got royally screwed over in battle there was a direct connection to Ratchet's mood. The worse off they were the angrier the medic was.

That was freaking everyone out. From previous experience, at this point, Ratchet should've been in an tumultuous rage. Not cheerfully humming songs about Pina Coladas.

Inferno came to the conclusion that Ratchet had probably murdered the twins and was in a period of celebration.

Regardless the situation when Ratchet came by all of the mechs parted like the Red Sea to make way for the scarily happy 'bot.

Ratchet took no notice. He was in too good of a mood.

Yes, the twins always were getting there afts blown to pieces because of stupid reasons.

Like last Tuesday for instance.

"_Sideswipe?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Tell me the biggest difference between your brother's armor and your own."_

"_Well, he's painted like a canary while I have more of a woodpecker look going on."_

"_His armor is flame retardant."_

"_There's that too."_

"_So why did you decide that it would be funny to feed Slag lighter fluid?"_

But idiocy like that would hopefully end. And Ratchet was going to relish in the process it would take.

He reached the security room and entered.

Red Alert was hunched over his keyboard and was staring glassy eyed at the dozens of screens up on the monitor.

"Red Alert?" Ratchet announced his arrival.

"ARGH! Wha?" The red mech jolted upright in his seat and whirled his rotating chair around to face the medic. "Ratchet? Don't do that! You almost made my spark atrophy. What are you doing here? You are interrupting my work! Can't you see I'm busy?" Red Alert scowled.

Ratchet quirked an eye ridge and looked past the neurotic 'bot dully and at the empty hallways being recorded by the security cameras.

"Well? I'm waiting?" The Security director demanded with impatient contempt. Ratchet looked back at him with a flat look.

Gee, and people thought Prowl was uptight.

"I'm here to take over security duty for the next shift," Ratchet casually shrugged and flopped himself down into the spare chair at the control panel. Red Alert gave him a distrustful look.

"I am still on duty, and I have not received any notification for a change in the shift roster." He narrowed his sea-blue optics. "As security director it is my duty to be in charge of security detail at _all_ times. You have no right to infringe on my job. In fact, you distracting me is compromising the Ark's wellbeing at this very instant! I thought you knew better, Ratchet." He chastised. He would've gone on, but Ratchet severed his rant with a sharp and to the point statement.

"As Chief Medical Officer I am over riding your duties in favor of your personal health." Ratchet leaned back nonchalantly in the chair.

"My health?" Red Alert's face went blank with bemusement, but it quickly turned sour. "We all had our routine exams two weeks ago. You preformed them personally, and you said everything was fine with my results!"

"Well everything _did_ appear to be fine at the time." Ratchet said blandly. He swiveled his chair and looked boringly into one of the screens. The Dinobots were playing hopscotch. That explained the small tremors.

Red Alert sputtered. "Appeared?" He asked in a fearful, quiet tone. "What do you mean by 'appeared'?" he hissed.

Ratchet decided to feed into Red Alert's panic a bit more.

"Well something was bothering me, and I was going over some of the results a few hours ago. As I was perusing the files I came across a few thing that sparked my…concern." He paused dramatically for effect giving the Lamborghini time to stew in his own paranoia.

"What?!" Red Alert howled, horrified.

"I saw signs of what may have been something similar to a human's radiculopathy, but it also showed possible characteristics of rasmussen encephalitis. Then again there where things that didn't add up, and it may have been something along the lines of a schistosoma japonicum." Ratchet lied smoothly. None of those terms really meant anything in relationship to one another, but Red didn't have to know that. It was good to be versed in a foreign species' medical terms for times like these.

Red Alert was horrified by the unintelligible medical babble. He may have not understood the jargon but it sounded bad. "You-you saw all of that wrong?"

"Then again, I could be reading into things not there. I mean it's _probably_ nothing." Ratchet tried reassuring but was rather unconvincing. "Of course rather safe then sorry, right? Especially after what I saw after further analysis of your results."

The poor security director was rattled. "_Probably_? What? What did you come across?" Red Alert asked in a fearfully timid voice.

Ratchet looked Red Alert squarely in the optics with grim expression stretched across his face. "Well, I have some good news and some bad news."

"The good news?" Red Alert asked meekly.

"We might be naming a new virus after you."

"ARGH!" Red Alert yelped and crashed backwards out of his chair, knocking it to the ground. He began pacing frantically with his hands clamped over his head. "I'm going to die! I am going to DIE! This was probably those damn Decepticons! They've poisoned me! But I'm so careful around them so when could they have possibly…or was it one of the Autobots? That must be it! They're all after my job! They've had it in for me from the start! They want me out of the way!"

"RED ALERT! Shut up, sit down and listen to me!" Ratchet roared. Red Alert froze and stared at the medic expectantly. Ratchet caught the look with his own disturbingly austere one. "Look, you're wasting time. You need to get to the med bay so Wheeljack can preform some secondary tests to determine if it really _is_ anything. Because if it is we'll have to act soon."

"Wheeljack? Why not you-"

"I'm taking over security detail you moron. Remember? Now get going! You're wasting time!"

With a frantic noise, the Lamborghini dashed out of the room making a warpath for the med bay.

After the red mech was completely out of sight Ratchet stood from the chair, closed the doors, walked back to the chair and dropped himself in it again. He propped both of his legs up on the panel, laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

It was a good thing that Red Alert was such a paranoid hypochondriac.

And who said Ratchet couldn't be a sneaky, manipulative glitch? Jazz wasn't the only sly, rule bender in the higher command.

So, as Red Alert, who in all reality had a flawlessly clean bill of health (not counting his spazzyness), was off getting scans for physically impossible medical ailments like schistosoma japonicum (Which was species of trematode worm that parasitized humans and therefore would be impossible for a Cybertronian to get) Ratchet had the security room all to himself.

This meant that he had control over all of the cameras.

This meant that he had nearly two and a half relaxing hours of watching and recording the twin's and their torments with said cameras.

He browsed the many screens up on the monitor and instantly located the one he had been looking for. In the F hall in sector 5 there was a lone, tiny childlike mech walking.

Ratchet attached a personal, blank data chip into the machine and began recording the footage.

Ratchet was going to owe Wheeljack a lot later for his temporary takeover of all medical duty in order to distract Red Alert. Maybe he would get him a quart of Plutonium or something so he could build that atomic vacuum cleaner he had been talking about.

And then there was Prowl. Prowl would be mad at him later for the blatant abuse of his power as CMO.

Prowl could go and shove it for all the white and red 'bot cared. Ratchet never really listened to him anyway.

Besides, the second in command would thank him later anyway.

Ratchet made himself comfortable and sighed with content.

All was good.

00000000000

The camera in the F hall rotated to follow the path of the morose Lamborghini not-child.

'_Primus? Can you hear me? This is Sideswipe.'_

Sideswipe was taking the longest walk of his life. Every step he took echoed down the desolate hallway only emphasizing its size and emptiness. It was unnerving.

'_I know I don't behave in the best of ways at times. I'm really, really sorry about that thing with the cherry bombs last Sunday. I won't do it again. And I know that I tend to use your name in association with rather…choice words. I promise to cut back,'_ he whispered silently in his head, '_but did you really need to send your Herald of Darkness to punish me? Wasn't this a bit of an extreme sentence?'_

His trip was coming to an end. At the end of the hallway he saw a large foreboding door gleaming in the orange light of the Ark. They might have well been the gates to the smelting pits with the aura they were giving off.

But it wasn't the pit these evil doors were guarding. No, they led to a place much more sinister.

The monitor room.

'_I'm positive I've suffered enough. Please, Primus, let there have been some horrific accident in Wheeljack's lab that ended up gluing everyone in the Ark to the floor. Let this monitor room be empty, and I promise I'll try not to cause mass chaos in the Ark…for a week at least. Please let me be the only one on this shift. Or if that's asking too much at least let it be someone who doesn't have a grudge against me. Like Skyfire - wait, no. Seaspray or... Damn.'_

With out really realizing it, Sideswipe had reached the end of the hall and had automatically halted in front of the doors. It was as if some outside source was repelling him from the room.

He shakily lifted one hand and reached for the door's control panel. Slowly he pressed each button with a deliberate slowness giving a long pause between each beep. All he had to do was enter the code and the door, the only thing separating him from complete and utter humiliation, would open.

'_Primus, I don't care at this point what you do. Just please, PLEASE, do not let my shift be with…'_

The doors slid open and Sideswipe reluctantly entered. There were seven Autobots in the room. All of them had looked back at the door out of reflex to see who had entered. However, what had simply been a casual glance evolved into open mouth gaping.

Sideswipe felt his innards go numb.

'…_the minibots.'_

"Sideswipe?" Windcharger broke the silence.

Sideswipe stared back with optics flat as stagnant water_. 'Primus, when I die, you are on my black list. You hear me! You better look forward to scrubbing pudding out of the Matrix for weeks!'_

Yet the more he thought about it the more he realized that it was Prowl's fault for this predicament in the first place.

Hang on to your hard hats kids. It's time for a Flashback.

_Sideswipe sputtered. "A double shift?"_

"_Yes. Be thankful that you're getting off mildly. A lot worse could be done for insubordination." His face was emotionless but Prowl's optics gleamed with mirth. _

"_Prowl, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it! I'll do what ever you want just don't send me out there for that long! You're throwing me to the wolves! They'll tear me to shreds!"_

"_Congratulations, Sideswipe. You effectively wasted 30 seconds of my time. Now get your skid plate out of my office."_

_Sideswipe stared into Prowl's optics impassively for a split moment. His large blue optics were pale, almost the color of frost. Behind them swirled contemplation._

_Then after a pause of false composure, Sideswipe literally threw himself at Prowls feet and clamped his arms around one of Prowl's legs in a last ditch attempt of desperation._

_Dignity? Pshaw. There was no room for dignity when your image was on the line._

_Groveling: It was a desperate measure, and an act that could be considered degrading to most. However at this point nothing was below what Sideswipe was willing to do to get out of being humiliated by his peers._

…_Prowl didn't count as a peer._

"_Have me dig trenches in Burma! Ship me off to Nigeria for a solo mission. Throw me in the brig in solitary confinement! I don't care but please don't make me have monitor duty! Other mechs will see me!" Sideswipe's puppy dog pout was reborn with a new and piteous light. "Please Prowl?" He whispered in a small voice._

_Prowl seemed to mock contemplate this. Sideswipe could almost see the thought process his logic circuits were taking._

_And it probably went something like the following:_

_**Attempting to give a damn.**_

_**Attempting…Attempting…**_

_**Unable to give damn. Stopping.**_

_**Process failed. Damn not given.**_

_Prowl looked straight into Sideswipe's optics, and with his ever impassive tone said, "No."_

_And then Sideswipe dramatically tried feigning a horrible illness and suffering. He gurgled pathetically, dropped to the floor again and began writhing and spasming with improvised agony. Weakly, in between forced stallings of his intakes, he claimed that his new body must've been failing, his spark was starting to atrophy and he needed to go to the medical bay urgently so he could be fixed. _

_Not the command center._

_"Everything is getting (cough) so dark…" He reached out weakly toward Prowl and looked up from the floor with bleary, desperate optics. "I can see the (hack) light...Prowl, I'm too young!…Help."_

"_I'm thinking of instating a new policy regarding sickness," Prowl started, "__that if you are able to go on sick parade, you are obviously well enough to go to work." The act was dropped instantly and Sideswipe looked up at Prowl sourly._

"_You suck."_

"_Want to try for triples instead of doubles?"_

_Sideswipe pursed his lips and let his forehead drop onto the floor with a soft thud._

"_I thought so. Go to the command center."_

And to the command center Sideswipe went.

"Stupid Prowl. What if I _had_ been dying? That stick in the mud would probably want a two weeks notice for my own death." Sideswipe grumbled resentfully.

And, eventually, that all led to his current situation: Him standing in the doorway looking like a deer in the headlights with seven minibots, off which the majority seriously wanted to shove him off a cliff, were staring at him like he was a piece of meat hanging in a butcher shop's window.

"Sideswipe!" Windcharger yelled catching the formerly large mechs attention.

"Yes?" Sideswipe snapped and nearly groaned when the angry tone he had been aiming for morphed itself into a sweet tenor on its way up from his vocalizer.

"Is that really you?" Windcharger blinked in confusion, not entirely believing the sight in front of him.

The other minibots were still doing their fish out of water impressions.

"Yeah. What's your point?" Sideswipe answered sharply. Just because he was a quivering, mortified wreck inside didn't mean he would give these pint sized degenerates the pleasure of seeing him that way.

Not that he could really talk as far as the height department went.

The room went silent again. Sideswipe couldn't take it! He just knew what they were all thinking. They were mocking his predicament. Why wouldn't they just say something and get it over with? Stupid silence!

Sideswipe briefly wondered if this was how Bluestreak felt like when everything was quiet.

"You. You're-" Windcharger blinked and paused.

Sideswipe snapped.

"I'm short! Yes I know! Shortstop, runt, shrimp, vertically challenged! Is that what you were going to say? Huh!?"

"You forgot pint sized!" A voice called out. Sideswipe whipped his head around, wildly throwing glares at every occupant in the room, but they had all already turned their attentions to the monitors, holding the air of innocence.

Sneaky bastards.

"Well, no. I was actually going to say you were late," Windcharger supplied cautiously.

Sideswipe backed off. "Oh."

"Err, you can work over at monitor six I guess." Windcharger pointed hesitantly as he tried to regain control over his facial plates. His expression twisted as he desperately tried to hold back the laughter blooming in his vocals.

So Sideswipe began the second longest walk of his life with his head hung low in despair. He could hear several minibots giggling softly at his situation.

Warpath even had the gull to hop in front of him and take a hologram of his march.

Sideswipe tried attacking, but Warpath had a longer reach and simply had to stick his arm out to halt the mini Lambo. Sideswipe gave up without much more fight and continued his walk to his workspace.

The others discretely followed in suit by recording their own holograms while attempting to smother their chortles at Sideswipe's expense.

Sideswipe sagged into the chair, found out his feet couldn't touch the ground anymore and did every thing physically possible not to break down and cry.

This was going to be the longest shift ever.

00000000

Ratchet turned his attentions to a different screen. This time to the med bay.

Time to see was horror #2 was up to.

00000000

Perceptor sighed despondently. He was not cut out for this type of work.

He was a scientist. An advocate of higher learning and discovery! He was not built for the physically demanding work required for patrol. He transformed into a microscope for Maccadam's's sake!

He normally had no issue with the higher command's decisions, but what in Primus's name was Prowl thinking when he developed the "shuffle system?"

It was basically a lottery that decided what your job would be on the duty roster. Prowl said it was to increase the range of the Ark's occupants in duty and help them stray out of their carefully built cliques.

Perceptor deduced that Prowl was bored. Stuff like this normally happened when Prowl was bored.

And now he was on patrol duty with Blaster and one other mech which was the current source of his irritation.

"I will not vacillate on my standing. Please come out so we can complete our patrol duty." Perceptor just wanted to get it over with so he could get back to his experiments. He had gotten a fascinating response from the substance called sugar when sulfuric acid was poured onto it. It seemed to cause a reaction leaving behind carbon soot unlike anything he was familiar with on Cybertron.

"No," Sunstreaker curtly replied shattering the scientist's hope on getting back to his lab any time soon.

"Come on. Prowl won't let us leave you behind. He was insistent that you come," Blaster tried coaxing the warrior out but was getting no results. The tape deck transformer was getting irritated with Sunstreaker too.

"No."

"Geeze, Sunstreaker! Stop being difficult! Man, where's Jazz? He should've been here by now." Blaster groaned, not happy with the prospect of arguing with a certain dark ray of sunshine.

"You raaang?" Jazz appeared from behind by seemingly fabricating out of nowhere. He hopped through the doors and sauntered over. "What's the prob?"

Perceptor and Blaster had called Jazz over in a last ditch attempt to get the melee warrior out of his hiding place.

"He's acting like a fledgling!" Blaster pointed at the door. "Normally he's all gung ho about patrol and struttin' his stuff, but he ain't budging now."

"Sunstreaker's just all balled up over his situation right now. Trust me on this, guys. Ratchet was really unforgiving this time." The corners of Jazz's mouth quirked to form a small smile.

Frustrated, Blaster turned to the door. "Is that it? So what if you're not all razzle dazzle lookin' as usual? Do we seem like the mechs who'd care?"

"JAZZ!?" Sunstreaker screamed with horrified shock. "You told!?"

"Not exactly."

"Jazz!"

"Well I had to give them some heads up earlier since I figured you were gonna' act this way. I just said that Ratchet was a little mean when he repaired you, and you look a bit different."

"Jaaaazz," Sunstreaker hissed out slowly, promising so much torment with that one word. 

"Yes, Sunny. I'm Jazz. Thank you for remindin' me." Jazz smirked. Sunstreaker raged.

Jazz was completely unfazed, but Perceptor became a bit worried.

"Oh dear. He's capricious mech. Should we be concerned?" Perceptor asked softly.

"Naw. That's just Sunstreaker for ya. All bite. No charm." Jazz rapped his knuckles against the door. "Hey Sunshine. It's been a fun run but ya really need to come out now."

"Go frag yourself, Jazz."

"Aw, come on dude. That's not cool. Why don't you come out here and talk to us face to face?" Blaster asked calmly.

"Burn in the inferno you slagging, 8-track reject."

Perceptor, who was not often exposed to the "golden" warrior's colorful vocabulary, looked scandalized. "_Sunstreaker! I _can not condone your frenetic behavior or your vulgar words! There is no excuse in which to disparage good manners. Now would you please come out of the closet this instant?!"

The second that last sentence left the scientist's mouth both Jazz and Blaster shared a look and were overcome with laughter. A confused and flustered Perceptor whirled on the two with an uncharacteristic fury.

"I do not believe I understand what it is about this situation you both find so amusing!" He fumed in that scholarly manner only he could achieve. It wasn't very intimidating, but you had to give him props for trying.

"It's a… It's an Earth thing Percy. Don't worry 'bout it," Jazz continued to snicker. Sunstreaker groaned from inside his temporary haven.

"Well, I am sorry that I am not as well versed in Earth's colloquial diction as you both are. Now will you both assist me in getting him to come on patrol?" he grumped.

"Yeah, hang on." After getting out the remaining giggles, Jazz stepped up to the plate.

"Hey Su---unstreake---er," he started in a singsong voice.

"What the hell do you want now?" Sunstreaker fumed.

"I _order_ you to come out here this instant." Jazz said all the while grinning.

There was absolute silence. No one had been expecting Jazz to pull _that_ card out of sleeve. Both Perceptor and Blaster shot Jazz surprised looks.

"You…You…That's abuse of power!" Sunstreaker cried crossly, sounding betrayed.

"No it ain't. Last I checked I'm a higher rank then you," Jazz countered and retained that easy grin of his.

"I can not believe you just pulled rank on me, you traitor." They could hear the pout in Sunstreaker's voice.

"Well, it's your fault. You're making me miss the X files. Now would ya get outa there before I have to pull more then rank?"

"You're evil Jazz. You're evil and I hate you."

"Of course you do. But we're still up for movies on Saturday, right?"

"…I guess." There was a long pause. Both Perceptor and Blaster were staring dumbly at Jazz trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

The third in command was one mystery that even Perceptor, a scientist bent on learning _everything_, wanted no part in figuring out.

Blaster just flat out gave up trying to figure out what made the Porsche tick a long time ago.

"Fine." Sunstreaker sighed with resignation "…I'm trusting you all to be mature about this."

"Sunstreaker, you have no reason to be ashamed around us. We will not judge you or your situation," Perceptor spoke with calming words in an attempt to make the warrior feel more secure about his insecure situation.

"Yeah buddy. You gotta remember that the majority of the Ark rolls around in the dirt on a daily basis. 'Sides, it can't be nearly as bad as when Powerglide got tarred and feathered by Skywarp and Thundercracker."

The door's lock clicked, and Sunstreaker emerged.

At least Jazz was true to his word. His massive, jubilant grin remained unchanged as the front line warrior exited the closest.

Blaster and Perceptor stared silently at the 'bot, ogling his new look.

"Sweet, Primus. Sunstreaker? Pbffttt- AHAHAHAHA!!!" Blaster was floored instantly with hysterics.

Perceptor tried, Primus knows he tried, but he could not for the life of him keep a straight face. Not even the fear of being torn into sample sized bits prevented the floodgates of laughter from opening.

And the harder Perceptor tried to repress it, the worse it got. "I'm, eheh… I'm really (snrk) Sorry." At first he tried politely covering his mouth. "I humbly, heh, apologize for…for - Ahahahahaha!!! I'm soooo sorry Sunstreak-streak--- GAHAHAHA!" All composure was lost and the scientist landed right next to Blaster.

Sunstreaker's violet blue optics went dull.

"Well, I have a show to catch. Latters ya'll!" Jazz skipped over the out of control 'bots laughing on the ground and traipsed out of the room.

Sunstreaker glared. "I am going to kill you both. You know that right?"

They both gasped for something to fill their intakes and looked up in acknowledgment. However, the second they caught a glimpse of the now-a-station-wagon transformer they were lost in another bout of laughter to which they happily succumbed.

"I hate you all."

00000000

Sideswipe hit an all time low.

When he lifted his arm to hit the button that turned the monitor on he discovered something.

He couldn't reach it.

Flustered, Sideswipe stood up and attempted hitting the button again but he still was not tall enough.

At this point, curious optics discretely directed them selves toward the short mech.

An aggravated noise rumbled from Sideswipe's vocals and he jumped to reach the button. His fingers barely brushed the bottom of the panel. Sideswipe stomped over to one of the monitors, grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the panel he was working at. Several mechs winced at the high pitched squealing of metal chair legs scraping against metal floor.

Sideswipe climbed the chair and slammed his hand into the button hard enough that the metal cracked. It weakly flickered to life and the sixth monitor activated. Grinning madly, he hopped off the chair.

"HA!" Sideswipe made a stabbing motion toward the button in triumph. Suddenly remembering he was not alone in the monitor room he dropped his arms and looked behind him to see that everyone as openly staring at him. "WHAT!?" He demanded shrilly.

Everyone quickly turned away and went back to there duties. Not with out a few muffled giggles that leaked through though.

"That's it." Cliffjumper stood from where he sat and marched toward Sideswipe. He stopped in front of the red 'Bot and was received by a glare. The minibot disregarded it. "This has been bothering me, and I just _have_ to know."

And so, Cliffjumper set his hand flat on top of Sideswipe's head.

The other minibots watched what their red companion was doing with a morbid fascination.

The red and black child mech was speechless in astonishment at the minibot's bold move, "You…you…" he couldn't get the words out.

Cliffjumper ignored him, pulled his level hand back steadily, and hit just above his own optics with the blade of his hand.

There was silence as everyone finally realized what Cliffjumper was doing. Sideswipe's jaw dropped, his body slumped foreword ever so slightly and his eyes widened in incredulity.

Cliffjumper's own optics enlarged briefly in surprise. After repeating the same thing a few times, just to make sure, Cliffjumper let his arm drop and he plastered a huge, diabolical grin on his face. With mirth in his voice he smugly stated, "I'm taller then you."

At that moment Sideswipe could hear reality as he knew it crack and break in two.

In all actuality, that was really the sound of several, stampeding minibots surrounding Sideswipe in a mob. All of them were trying to see their own heights in comparison to the once giant mech.

Sideswipe hit the deck and began crawling through their legs. Narrowly avoiding being trampled on, he was successfully able to squeeze himself out of the tight circle, stumble up into a run and then quickly bolted from the scene as fast as his short legs could carry him.

He ran for several minutes and when he figured he was far enough from the crazed minibots he slumped against the wall in an abandoned hallway. He let his ventilation systems cool down his overheating internals. He buried his face into his hands and let out a long and excruciating groan.

00000000000000000000000000

Meanwhile, a certain amused medic was watching this all from the safety of Red Alert's office.

"This deserves an Emmy."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yay! Chapter four is done

Ratchet is a power abuser XD

Almost done with that pic of Sideswipe! I'll post it on my Deviant art page when I'm done.

Reviews are loved, ideas are welcomed, CC is appreciated, and flames are used to toast marshmallows.


	5. The Medic's results

My gosh. Sorry this took so long. I kept getting distracted by other things, real life and the middle of this chapter just wouldn't agree with me Oo

Thank you to all who reviewed and have been waiting patiently. I'll try not to be as slow.

Disclaimer: don't own. Never will. Plot's mine.

On with the fic

000000000000000

You know how it is when you can't get to sleep because it's Christmas Eve and you're extremely excited about all the great and wonderful things that will happen in the morning?

This was nothing like that.

Ya know, except for the not be able to sleep bit. Sideswipe was restless but it was not out of unbridled joy or excitement. It was from stress, worry, dread and disbelief.

And after lying unmoving on his berth for what felt like hours, just staring up at the Ark's ridiculously bright orange ceiling, he came to the conclusion that probably the only way he'd fall into recharge would be if Omega Supreme knocked him out with a good, swift kick to the cerebral processor.

It was like his mind was on replay, set to playback the last 24 hours in a constant, unrelenting loop, and it was driving him mad.

And you know what they say. Madness loves company.

"Sunstreaker?" Sideswipe whispered tiredly to his brother.

"What?" The reply was brusque and sounded agitated. It appeared the other twin was having as much luck recharging as he was and was twice as tired. Not a particularly good combination when dealing with the gold… excuse me; _brown_ mech.

"That," began Sideswipe, "was the worst day of my entire life." From beginning to end the day _had_ nightmarish. From the moment he woke up in Ratchet's medical room to the moment the small bot reached his bunk wanting nothing more then to recharge, wake up and find this all had been a nightmare, had been horrible. Especially when his plans of rest were halted by the fact he couldn't get on his recharge berth due to height issues.

"You wanted the top bunk," Sunstreaker had sneered. Sideswipe glared and struggled to reach the higher platform. Eventually, he had succeeded only to find later that it hadn't mattered anyways since he was still awake.

"I'm serious. That was the worst day, hands down. It was even worse then the time our old platoon leader, Cinder Vex, used me as bait to find that prison camp near Ra'el."

"First off, Ra'el wasn't the prison camp, it was the trenches. You're thinking of Valvoluux. Secondly, I highly doubt your day can even begin to compare with mine," his brother responded dully from the bottom bunk.

"You wanna bet? I worked with the minibots all day. Do you know what those nasty little fraggers did? They locked me in a _vent. _The glitches said there was something caught in one of them and I was the only one-" Sideswipe felt like gagging, "_small_ enough to fit in that part of the system. So in I crawl and they bolt the thing closed behind me. It wasn't even a vent! It was a cubby! And they left me in there for the rest of the shift! Do you know how claustrophobic I felt in there? And it was dark." Sideswipe shuddered.

It wasn't exactly a common piece of trivia knowledge, and he really wanted to keep it that way, but he suffered from a minor case nyctophobia. He couldn't really stand to be alone in the dark, but was relatively good at faking it.

"Oh really?" Sunstreaker used his unimpressed tone. "How'd you get out?"

"Bumblebee busted me out," Sideswipe whined indignantly.

Sunstreaker snickered at the thought. His proud and haughty brother needing to be rescued by the tiniest and arguably weakest mech in the whole Ark was sort of funny.

Though when describing Bumblebee's strength '_arguably_' was the key word there. Sunstreaker had a sneaking suspicion that a certain yellow minibot was behind a certain unidentified sniper who seemed to randomly pop up in battle. Originally everyone thought it was Bluestreak but after they found it wasn't, and since no one came forward saying it was them, they had no idea who the anonymous gunner was.

The little bot was sneaky. Mechs seemed to forget that often. Bee wasn't in Jazz's unit for nothing after all.

Still there were other things that held the utmost priority at the moment, and incognito minibots was not one of them.

"I had to march through a mud pit," Sunstreaker informed his twin with disgust in his voice.

Sideswipe propped himself up with his elbows and peered over the edge of his berth, eyeing his brother askance. "Ok, that I have to hear."

"No. I don't think you do."

"Oh. Ok then." Sideswipe slid back down into his berth. Sunstreaker cocked an eye ridge in response.

"You're giving up unusually fast."

"Well if you don't want to tell me that's your prerogative." Sideswipe shrugged. "I'll just have to find other ways to occupy myself until I fall into recharge instead."

There was a three second calm before a wave of negative forewarning crashed through Sunstreaker's mind.

No. He wouldn't.

Oh Primus on a hang glider this was Sideswipe. Of course he would.

"Sideswipe. I'm warning you-"

"Mama, just killed a man,  
Put a gun against his head,  
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead,  
Mama, life had just begun,  
But now I've gone and thrown it all away-" Sideswipe began in a soulful alto.

"Mama oooooo,  
didn't mean to make you cry-  
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow-  
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters."

Too late. The red glitch had started singing.

"Sideswipe. Shut up."

"Too late, my time has come,  
Sends shivers down my spine-  
Body's aching all the time,  
Goodbye everybody-I've got to go-  
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth-  
Mama oooooo-  
I don't want to die,  
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all."

"Sideswipe! Shut the frag up!"

Damn him! Damn him and his stupid habit of breaking out into obnoxious song to the pit! And with his high pitched voice it sounded even weirder and more obnoxious then normal.

"Too late. I can't get it out of my head now." Sideswipe faked trying to being silent for a few seconds before continuing with a quicker pace then before, "I see a little silhouette of a man,  
Scaramouch, Scaramouch will you do the fandango-  
Thunderbolt and lightning-very very frightening me-  
Galileo, Galileo,  
Galileo, Galileo  
Galileo figaro-magnifico." Sideswipe even managed to switch from a falsetto to a fake baritone for bits of the song. Sunstreaker wasn't impressed.

"SHUT UP!"

"It's not my fault this stupid, yet strangely catchy song is stuck in my head."

"Yes it is!"

"But I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me-  
He's just a poor boy from a poor family-  
Spare him his life from this monstrosity-  
Easy come easy go-,will you let me go-  
Bismillah! no-, we will not let you go-let him go-  
Bismillah! We will not let you go-let him go  
Bismillah! We will not let you go-let me go…"

Normally Sunstreaker would have severe qualms with ramming his head into anything because it would usually mar his shining, flawless helm. At the moment though he wanted nothing more then to bash his head into the wall. Repetedly.

"So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye-  
So you think you can love me and leave me to die-  
Oh baby-can't do this to me-"

"For the love of Primus stop! I'll tell you but please shut up!"

Sideswipe's mouth snapped shut. "Well if you insisit who am I to refuse?"

"I hate you sometimes."

"Aww. But you'll always love me."

And so Sunstreaker begrudgingly started his tale.

_Earlier_

"So out of total curiosity why am I on patrol- You know, that activity that requires traveling from point A to point B- with two mechs who can't move in their alt forms?"Sunstreaker asked in perplexed annoyance.

The, ahem, brown station wagon was clunking away awkwardly down the dirt path much to his cargo's dismay. It didn't help that it had just rained a lot earlier that day and the water had eroded the ground some creating grooves in the road. The two smaller transformers, a red microscope and a boom box sitting on his back seat, felt themselves rattling uncomfortably over the uneven way.

"Hey, Mac. You have a problem go take it to Prowl. He's the master mind behind the job schedule," Blaster retorted.

"Call me 'Mac' again and I'm throwing you out. Then backing up," Sunstreaker growled. Blaster's voice disappeared and there was mostly silence except for the rattling of Sunstreaker's metallic frame. Perceptor wisely decided to stay quiet.

"Besides, I have had my fill of Prowl for one day, and I haven't even seen him yet," Sunstreaker grumbled.

And since fate is a cruel mistress it was at that moment Prowl's voice crackled to life through Blaster's comline.

"_Blaster? This is Prowl, do you copy?"_

"Wazzup Prowl?" Blaster replied cheerfully_. "_Any problems?"

"_We have been monitoring your area-"_

"If you were monitoring the area already then what the hell are we out here for?" Sunstreaker revved his engines in irritation and sped up angrily. That just made the ride for his passengers even more violently bumpy. Blaster fell forward, speaker side up and Perceptor rattled off the seat completely and landed on the floor with a clunk and an 'oomph!'

"Damn it, Sunshine!" Blaster's voice blared from his speakers.

Abruptly, Sunstreaker slammed on the brakes. Blaster was pitched forward by the halt and hit the back of the front seat. He landed on the floor in the spot where Perceptor had been but had some how shimmied away from.

"Listen hear, you Soundwave wannabe. I am in a bad mood and right now would have no qualms with transforming right now, with you still _inside_."

"Well maybe this whole shindig would go a lot smoother if you weren't bein' such a jerk," Blaster murmured.

"So I'm the jerk Sir 'We will not judge you or your situation' Sunstreaker?" The warrior said in a biting tone. Blaster went quiet and Perceptor sighed ashamedly over his lack of control when they had first seen Sunstreaker.

But the moment had been so surreally funny. Anyone would have laughed in seeing the handsome, egotistical mech in such a state. They had simply been the unfortunate bots who actually did.

"_What is-"_ Prowl, who had been forgotten for the most part, tried speaking up through the line but was sharply cut off by Blaster taking over the airwaves.

"Okay fine," Blaster finally said after mulling over his thoughts. "Look, I'm sorry we laughed! We apologized like twelve times already. You wanna thirteenth? Fine then. We. Are. Sorry. Happy now?"

"No. No I'm not. And I'm staying true to my words and still killing you both later," Sunstreaker said coldly.

Blaster's systems chilled over and he briefly thought back to his academy days on Cybertron. That guy in his communications tech class had been right. He who laughs last should do so from a safe distance.

"Sunstreaker, please! Now is not the time to be unreasonable." Perceptor pleaded.

"I will be as damn unreasonable as I fragging want!" Sunstreaker gunned his engines and took off. Perceptor and Blaster slid back violently after the sudden propulsion and slammed into the back seat. They both groaned.

"Sunstreaker," Perceptor began explaining calmly, " I understand that we did not show the greatest restraint regarding your fragile situation but we…"

"I am not fragile!"

"…are sincerely sorry. However there is no real reason to be pugnacious."

"Or a complete ass," Blaster added. Sunstreaker revved his engine's again and, for a station wagon, began picking up a pretty impressive speed.

"Blaster, hush! You are not helping the situation any!" Perceptor yelled in frustration.

"_What are you three doing!?"_ Prowl's voice boomed inside Sunstreaker. The temporary station wagon slammed on his brakes once more sending his battered passengers forward into the seat again. Only this time all three voices quieted.

"_There was a car accident," _Prowl hissed_, "five miles from you. There were three passengers, one human female, and two human males, one of which is barely 6 earthen years old. They are caught in a ditch. I am giving you coordinates so get them to safety __**now**__." _The line went dead and the three mechs were left with just their orders.

Sunstreaker pealed out and the rest of the drive was in silence.

At least until they got there.

Sunstreaker didn't slow down to brake. Instead, he turned sharply while opening his back doors and flung his cargo out into the dirt before Transforming.

Blaster growled and transformed as did Perceptor. Both were aching from the brutal car ride but neither said anything regarding the rough treatment. If there was one thing scarier then Sunstreaker it was a pissed of Sunstreaker. And thanks to Blaster not knowing how to keep his yapper diplomatically shut, Sunstreaker was probably borderline homicidal.

Even now in his odd form the bot was scary.

…Unless of course you actually _looked_ at him in all of his brown, clunky glory. Then he would be hilarious beyond all reason and you would end up laughing yourself to your grave, possibly with Sunstreaker himself helping you get there quicker.

In fact, both Perceptor and Blaster made a conscientious effort to look everywhere but at Sunstreaker. It was fine when they were inside of him in vehicle mode because their sight capabilities were pretty limited due to their alt forms.

Having to actually stand next to him with all of their senses functioning perfectly normal and clear was a different ballgame completely.

"Oh _hell_ no." Sunstreaker's lips tightened into a grim line.

Blaster looked down in the massive ditch to where Sunstreaker was staring and was expecting to see a horribly mangled car or some equally disturbing carnage.

He could see the humans, and the family seemed fine from where they were sitting on top of the car roof.

The car, however, was submerged almost completely to the roof in mud: Smelly, viscous, dirty mud.

Even though Sunstreaker was in less then his usual pristine condition, his mindset was exactly the same. He did not want to get dirty.

"Oh." Perceptor spoke with a resigned tone. As if the situation with Sunstreaker couldn't get any worse, Primus decided to throw them a curve.

You didn't have to be a genius like Perceptor to figure out that this was probably going to end badly.

Unfortunately Blaster didn't catch on.

"Come on Sunstreaker!" Blaster wisely used Sunstreaker's full name this time. "Let's go an' pull those humans out!"

Sunstreaker shot him an Are-you-completely-off-your-rocker-look? Off course Blaster didn't see it. He was still doing everything in his power to avoid looking at Sunstreaker.

Perceptor sighed for the umpteenth time. He was paired up with an idiot with good intentions and a mech who was a few screws away from being a homicidal maniac.

"I'm not going in that," Sunstreaker stated matter O-factly.

"What does it matter anyways? It's not like your gonna mess up your finish or nothin'," Blaster snapped then cringed when he heard Sunstreaker lock up in irritation.

"I am _not_ going in that," Sunstreaker repeated more firmly. "If there's no problem then why don't _you_ do it?"

"I'm not goin' in alone!"

Perceptor looked over to where the human family was sitting on top of there partially sunken minivan (It looked like a blue Ironhide), staring blankly at the quarrelling bots.

The scientist just wanted to go home and finish his experiments. He was tired and mentally exhausted and they weren't getting anything accomplished by fighting amongst themselves. So he did a very un-Perceptor like thing.

He gave a mighty shove with a strength few would suspect that he had and successfully pushed both Blaster and Sunstreaker into the stinking mud pool.

Both landed supine in the mud with splat, and both were almost completely submerged.

Blaster resurfaced first, sputtering and cursing. Sunstreaker stayed down for a little while longer simply out of shock.

But as he slowly rose out of the dripping, dank liquid, and turned to stared at Perceptor with fiery violet optics, the scientist realized his error.

He had just bumped himself up on the list of Bot's Sunstreaker wanted to dismantle.

Slag.

"Now is not the time to be squabbling amongst ourselves," Perceptor's vocals hitched slightly but he continued on despite Sunstreaker's terrifying glower. "That family needs our help and as Autobots it is our duty to assist them."

Sunstreaker's glare was still burning, and Perceptor was beginning to wither under it.

"So-Lets-hurry-up-and-help-them!" Perceptor spoke fast enough to give Blurr a run for his money. Then he jumped into the sludge himself, wading as fast as he could past the angry former-Lamborghini in order to get to the minivan and the humans.

Blaster went to join him.

Sunstreaker completely gave up. He got up begrudgingly and trudged to help as well.

The deep mud had been caused by all the rain and flooding they had been having the past few days. The father of the family had accidentally hydroplaned into the ditch filled with the gunk. Fortunately though, they were all able to get out of the car in time before mud filled the vehicle. They were a little bit dirtier but alive nonetheless.

Drowning in mud would be like dieing from choking on a pretzel. Horrible but unexciting.

The three Bots pulled the van out pretty easily and got the family to safety in a relatively short amount of time. By the time they got out they were all covered in an ample amount of mud. All three of them looked like they had crusty brown army adorned with leaves sticks, rocks and whatever else stuck to the muck. And Sunstreaker was discretely seething.

The frontline mech was _not_ happy at all.

His two compatriots could feel the tension in the air and it felt ready to crack. Any more steam added to Sunstreaker's bottle and the cork would blow.

The human adults thanked the mechs profusely and the Autobots responded with their usual Autobot humility, replying with the "Glad to help." And " It's in our programming." shebang.

All was going well and Blaster and Perceptor figured they would be able to go back to the base with little incident before Sunstreaker decided to really kill them then hide their corpses in the mud.

But then the human child _spoke_.

There was something endearing about human children. This one was no different.

He was a cute kid, probably only five or six in Earth years. He had pretty coffee colored skin, massive wide black eyes and rough, curly hair cut close to his head.

But gosh, human kids were stupid sometimes. Really, really dumb.

"Mister Robot?" The child hailed Sunstreaker and the warrior looked down at him. Then, with oblivious innocence asked, "Why do you look so weird?"

Boy, did kids say the darndest things.

Sunstreaker went rigid. Perceptor's and Blaster's jaws dropped like pianos off a building.

At first, Sunstreaker stared through blank optics, but then a manic look slowly spread across his face.

Blaster braced himself, ready to hurl himself in front of the line of fire in order to protect the human family from Sunstreaker's imminent rampage.

Only rampage he didn't. Instead Sunstreaker grinned. It was a wide, gritted, horrifying grin that was eerily close in resembling the Joker's own maniacal smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"I had an accident," Sunstreaker spoke hoarsely while some how maintaining his gruesome smile. Blaster felt himself flinch visibly when he saw Sunstreaker's optic twitch.

"Like we did? What happened?" The human child blinked

"I had a bad fall," Sunstreaker said sickeningly sweetly.

"Well you're an Autobot right? How come if you can turn into anything, why do you turn into my grandpa's car?" The boy could take one look at the weird, false-wood panels attached to Sunstreaker and was able to guess what he changed into.

"My doctor is fixing my body. This is temporary."

"Well that's dumb. Aren't you a robot? Can't you buy a new body?"

The Child's parents were beginning to look uncomfortable at the exchange, but the kid remained blissfully unaware.

"Isaiah!" The child's female parental unit ran over and picked up the child, "Dontcha you be so rude, boy. Haven't I taught you better?"

"But I wanna know!" He whined. "Why does he turn into something so weird?"

"Hold your tongue, boy," she chastised then turned to Sunstreaker while subconsciously shielding the boy away from the massive robot. "I'm so sorry about this. The boy's a child and you know how children can be."

Well, technically Sunstreaker _didn't _because the Sparkling and Youngling stage of a transformers life, the equivalent to a child, had been deemed obsolete by the war.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been sparked as fledglings, given bodies closer to that of a full grown mech. Not children.

"It's…ok."

Perceptor could clearly hear the strain in Sunstreaker's voice.

"Well, I called ya'll a tow truck and they should be on their way over here," Blaster cut in and jumped in front of the still grinning Sunstreaker. "We gotta get goin' now."

"Alright. Thank you so much for all'a your help," The man smiled in earnest appreciation.

Sunstreaker transformed as did the other two. They took their places on Sunstreaker's back seat tensely, just happy that a possible sticky situation had been avoided.

Unfortunately, after they were some ways away, apparently the human grown male underestimated the hypersensitive hearing of a Cybertronian, because the comment he made was heard loud and clear and almost completely ruined the Autobot's avoidance of conflict.

"Dear lord. A Station wagon? Some one needs to take that ugly car in the woods to be _shot_."

Sunstreaker slammed on his brakes. Perceptor was actually flung into the front dash from the force.

An ugly car it may have been, but apparently station wagon's had some very good brakes.

"Sunstreaker?" Blaster asked nervously.

"Don't squish the human. Don't squish the human. Don't squish the tiny irritating human with a death wish into a puddle of pink goo." Sunstreaker's mantra wasn't helping his resolve all that much, but the imagery of fleshy soup beneath his ped was making him feel somewhat better.

It had been a rough drive back.

0000000000

Sunstreaker finished his tale and waited, expecting his brother to begin laughing. To his surprise the tiny bot was silent.

"Sides?" Sunstreaker lifted his leg and lightly kicked the underside of the top bunk to see if his brother was still awake.

Sideswipe was lying on his back looking ruefully at the orange ceiling. He pursed his lips then started with a dry poetic tone, "Ratchet." Sunstreaker quirked an eye ridge. Sideswipe was in one of those weird moods again.

"Ratchet," Sideswipe repeated. "It Rhymes with Hatchet."

"Calling him that got old eons ago. We can come up with something better. I'm thinking _Mephistopheles_ would be a good start…"

"Shut up you. I'm actually going somewhere with this." Sunstreaker growled, but quieted to listen to his brother. Sideswipe continued, "Hatchet is a synonym of Axe. Axe, is tool of trade among axe murderers. Axe murders are bad. Bad leads to evil. Evil leads to ruthless malevolence. So, by association, Ratchet is the epitome of all evil."

"Six degrees to Kevin Bacon?" Sunstreaker asked.

"No. More like six degrees to that one guy… Ya know the one a lot of humans seem to be afraid of."

"Satan?"

"Actually I was thinking of Gene Rayburn but that's a good second."

"Gene Rayburn? Why?"

"Human dentals are not that fricken white! I'm a _machine_ and _I_ think that dude is just _unnatural."_ Sideswipe went silent.

"So…One week huh?" Sunstreaker broke the quiet with his question.

"Yup," Sideswipe affirmed.

"So, what, one day has past right?"

"Yup."

"That means six more days, right?"

"Yup. Six Earth days and Earth days are different from Cybertronian days. 24 hours instead of 20 like home."

"Huh."

"Indeed."

"I hate Earth."

"Me too."

"But not the beaches, right?" Sunstreaker said mockingly.

"Shut up."

00000000

The next day was exactly as the twins feared.

Everybody knew.

And Sideswipe threw one out there and guessed (quite accurately) that the minibots were responsible. News traveled faster through the bots of the Ark then gossip did through girls armed with phones.

It didn't help that Sideswipe was on the verge of fritzing.

He barely recharged even 15 percent of his energy reserves last night and it was showing.

He could feel his circulatory system pounding through his body. Everything felt like it was moving under his peds, even when he stood still. Lights seemed brighter, sounds seemed louder, and he didn't even want to look at energon let alone consume it even though he needed the boost.

And he was once again on monitor duty because Primus knew why.

And his poor, equally haggard brother was on patrol again, only this time with Tracks and Warpath.

What the _hell_ had Prowl been on when he came up with _that_ combination? Did he want Sunstreaker to go on a homicidal rampage?

Prowl's attempts at easing his own boredom was going to get them all killed one day, Sideswipe was sure.

But Sideswipe had his own problems.

He tried ignoring the mechs in the room but they were relentless.

They laughed behind his back, made frequent small jokes, mocked his height and all of the above.

Some had been lame like "How's the weather down there!"

Others had been discreet. For instance, mechs would ask him to get things that were quite clearly out of his reach.

However no one was making a blatantly big deal out of his sudden change in form.

No, they were letting Sideswipe stew in agony, quietly watching from the sidelines like he was an animal in a zoo. They were simply there to throw the pebbles to make him react.

Well Sideswipe decided that child form or no he was still Sideswipe, and as Sideswipe would retaliate hard, and malevolently.

Or in simpler terms Sideswipe snapped.

He stood from his spot at one of the secondary monitors and crossed the room to the main computer. He pulled up a chair, stood on top of it so he could reach the keyboard and began typing furiously.

The other mechs stared curiously to see what he was doing.

"Sideswipe! What're you-" Whoever had been speaking was cut off by the loud beep of the enter button when Sideswipe activated the code he typed in. Almost simultaneously the computer reacted to the command.

The sounds of several indigent screams rang through the Ark as Sideswipe cackled evilly.

00000000

Sideswipe found out that despite his size he could run really fast. It was a good thing too, apparently.

Because, you see, he had set off the Ark's sprinkler system and all of the built in fire extinguishers.

Every mech had been sprayed down by the "sprinkler system" (Which was more or less the Cybertronian equivalent of several clusters of fire hoses) and/or had been generously drenched in growing flame retardant foam. Unfortunately, in the confusion and carnage, three mechs had collected themselves enough to go after Sideswipe.

Bots going after him hadn't been in Sideswipe's spur of the moment plan.

Ironhide, Mirage, and Slingshot were on his tail, all trailing foamy bits and water, and all equally unhappy.

Actually, the chase had already been going on for five minutes. It led to some almost disastrous spills due to the Ark's floor suddenly being flooded with several cyberinches of water. Then their chase led into Wheeljack's lab which _had_ ended in disaster.

Apparently, Wheeljack's inventions didn't mix well with water all that much…

Luckily for Sideswipe the rather impressive display of fireworks had acted like a flash grenade and temporarily stunned his pursuers. He had time to bolt away and gain the necessary lead to the Ark's exit.

Nothing could stop him now!

Except, perhaps, the very inconveniently placed uneven panel in the floor that he snagged his foot on. That sent a real monkey wrench into his plans.

Sideswipe was air born instantly and decided he didn't see what seekers liked about flying so much. He hovered parallel over the ground with his arms straight in front of him before crashing down and skidding across the floor. A trail of brilliant, gold sparks and a pretty hefty sized skid mark was left in his screeching wake.

When the ringing in his audios halted he flipped over on his back and sat up, wincing when he bent his knees.

"Ow," he groaned and pulled his right knee up to inspect the damage. The casing of his new form was softer than and not nearly as durable as his old one. So it was no surprise on how easily his knee got scraped. Beads of soft green energon began welling on the jagged, damaged metal and little droplets began trailing down from the minor wound.

He could hear the other three closing in on him and knew he wouldn't be able to get away fast enough. "What do I do? What do I do?" He looked around wildly for some place to hide in the next three second but saw nothing in the bare hallway. _'I'm so screwed.'_

Suddenly an idea struck Sideswipe and a light bulb went off above his head.

Only this particular light bulb had horns, a barbed tail and was virtually screaming "bad idea!"

The three chasing him rounded the corner and Mirage led the pack.

"We've got you now you little brat-" Mirage quieted and skid to a stop. The others halted as well when they caught sight of the tiny Lamborghini.

The little child transformer was sitting on the ground, both of his arms clutching his right knee to his chest tightly. Bright green energon stood out sharply in contrast to the black of his knee. His soft face was contorted with pain and his large blue optics were glazed over in agony. His ventilators were sped up causing the small one to hiccup, and the child like mech looked like he was using all of his willpower not to cry.

Just like that all anger dissipated from the three furious mechs as they stared down at the small Lamboformer uncomfortably.

"Err, Sideswipe?" Slingshot asked hesitantly.

"It, huuurts," the little bot whined despondently and clutched his hurt knee closer to himself. He bent his head forward hiccupped with a strangled sob. "Owww."

Ironhide looked to Slingshot who then in turn gave Mirage a lost look.

"He's joking, right?" asked Mirage as he looked at the pitiful, hurt 'Bot.'

"I don't know. He seems really serious," Slingshot replied, unsure of his own answer as he listened to Sideswipe's intakes speed up in short gasps.

"I mean, he's not really a kid."

"Yeah, he's still the same Sideswipe. This is just a temporary body and he's just a stupid jerk that…" the Aerialbot trailed off after seeing that Sideswipe had directed his large, shimmering, violet-blue optics in their direction.

"It (sniffle) hurts. Make it stop hurting," Sideswipe whimpered.

The three older mechs were sunk by the pitiable, adorable cuteness.

"Oh, we can't just leave him like that." Mirage cracked.

"Mirage, he's not a Sparkling or a kid!" Slingshot yelled in frustration. "He's just a lousy, arrogant…" The aerial bot went rigid when he caught Sideswipe's gaze again. Sideswipe's lower lip began to tremble.

"You…hate me?" The red and black questioned meekly.

That was it. Slingshot was caught by the illusion as well.

"Oh…crap… No… I didn't mean- well sort of but, no really I didn't-" the flyboy, for once, was at a loss for word.

"Slingshot. Shuddup," Ironhide snapped in a clipped tone.

"Right." The Aerial bot scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Ironhide stepped a bit closer and dropped to one knee. He placed his large, dark gray hands on the tiny bot's shoulders reassuringly, completely dwarfing them under his hold. Sideswipe looked up at him while sniffling.

"Hey there little buddy. It's all right," Ironhide soothed. Placing a little pressure on the younger bots shoulders, he slowly helped the sniveling little mech up to a stand. Sideswipe winced and put all of his weight on his non-injured leg. "See? You're ok."

"You're all mad at me," he said sadly.

"Naw, we're not mad. Right fellers?" Ironhide sent a look to the other two.

"Err, no," Slingshot replied slowly while his mind still tried to make sense of the situation.

"But you can't go around doing mean things to others ok?" Mirage spoke as if speaking to a child (which in a weird way he was.)

"I'm sorry," Sideswipe whispered softly. Any remaining anger the larger three had completely melted away at that point.

"Aw, it's all right. How about we getcha to ol' Wheeljack, and have him fix ya up?" Ironhide smiled warmly.

With one last sniffle, Sideswipe gave a small nod and toddled closer to the other two with his head bent to the floor. Mirage and Slingshot felt their sparks drop at the sight of the limping black and red mech.

None of them caught the shift of expression that went from downcast to pure evil as the Lamborghini reached the other two.

It was too late. The Trojan horse breached the wall.

Clang. Whap. Bang.

"OW!"

"Ouch!"

"You damn, underhanded brat!" Ironhide screamed and held his tender shin plating.

Sideswipe cackled madly and sprinted away.

"Dear, Primus. His kick hurts more than his pile drivers!" Mirage nursed the dent under his kneecap.

"That glitch just played us all for fools! He's exactly the same evil mech he always has been!" Slingshot limped slightly after Sideswipe.

"After him!" It wasn't clear on who ordered the command, but, sure enough, the three mechs dashed after the disappearing child-former.

"Get back here you pit vermin!" Ironhide roared, "Your skid plate is mine!"

0000000000

Optimus Prime's voice sounded like a mix between a badass superhero, that announcer guy and God. When he spoke, people listened in awe at his commanding yet gentle tone. He could make you feel safe and confident when he spoke, and could crush any doubts with his words.

"Autobots!" An uncharacteristically furious sounding Optimus roared through the comlink. "Ironhide, Mirage, Slingshot and Sideswipe! Transform and roll your skid-plates back in here immediately!"

He could also scare the living daylights out of you with his tone if so wished.

He waited at his desk giving the appearance of calm. His fingers were laced and resting on his desk, his back was straight, his shoulders were back and his expression was one of stony calm.

It didn't take very long for the doors of his office to creak open. The guilty mechs all let themselves in as discretely as possible, shoulders slumped forward. Sideswipe placed himself farther away from the others.

The four stood in chilly silence as Optimus scrutinized them.

"Could you all please tell me why you found it necessary," Prime started with a strained calmness, "to wreck half of the Ark?"

No one spoke.

"Wheeljack's lab is in shambles and for once he wasn't the cause of it, the hallways are waterlogged and we'll probably be scraping rust and flame retardant foam from the 3rd sector for weeks. Would some one like to tell me why?" Prime asked tonelessly.

"Cabin fever?" Sideswipe tried weakly. He was shot with four glares.

"You surly, loggerheaded, ill-bred miscreant!" Mirage screamed in frustration.

"Hey. There's no need for Shakespearean insults."

"You did all of this…YOU!" Mirage raised his hands; fingers clawed, and reached out shakily toward Sideswipe, seemingly intent with mutilating the tiny mech.

Sideswipe raised his hand.

"Yes, Sideswipe?" Prime asked haggardly.

"Mirage is having a meltdown," he said like a tattling child.

"Sideswipe. Shut up please." Prime commanded more then asked. Sideswipe's form went rigid and he pursed his lip components together. "Mirage. Stay where you are."

Prime sighed and rubbed his thumb and forefinger between his optics.

"Ironhide, I am particularly disappointed in you. As a senior officer I would have expected you to have acted more…maturely."

Ironhide looked downcast, avoiding his leader's disapproving stare. "Sorry Prime." He mumbled.

"You three," He hailed the three taller mechs, "I want you three to begin repairing the damaged caused to the Ark until I think of something more suiting. Go."

The three scurried out of the office as quickly as physically possible.

Sideswipe was suddenly alone and he could've sworn that the temperature dropped several degrees.

Prime stood and never before had the mech looked as large and imposing as he did then. Sideswipe actually had to careen his head back just look Prime in the face. And despite the fact that his commander's sky blue optics were flashing with clear annoyance he couldn't look away.

Optimus didn't know what to do with the Bot. The mech had been through a lot in the last 48 hours. He had been ripped apart by seekers, went through a radical transformation and then there was the ruthless taunting of his peers that he had probably gone through (Though he brought a lot of it on himself if past events were any indication.) But that was no excuse to act the way he did.

Prime finally thought of a sentence.

"You," Optimus suddenly pointed harshly at Sideswipe causing the tiny mech to jolt. Prime's let his pointer finger hang in the air accusingly for a few moments but then he violently jabbed it toward one of the room's corners.

"What?" Sideswipe asked in complete confusion at the action.

"Get in the corner," Prime demanded.

"Huh?" Sideswipe blinked, looked at the corner, and then felt a mortifying feeling surge through his tiny body when he realized the implications.

"Prime that's degrading! Don't we have a law against cruel and unusual punishment?"

"No. You're thinking of the American Bill of Right's 8th amendment. Now get into the corner." He jabbed his finger again for emphasis.

"Optimus you can't be-"

"Corner. _Now_."

"But I-"

"NOW!"

The small mech jumped with an, "Eep," and scrambled into the corner. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You will stand there until I say otherwise."

Sideswipe groaned, slumped forward and let his helmet hit the corner with a thud.

Five more days after this left.

The rest of the week was going to be hell.

000000000

10 points to whoever can guess the name of the song Sideswipe was singing.

Once again, sorry for taking so long, and I thank you all a lot for your patience. I won't be as slow (hopefully) for future chapters.

And just because of my lameness from the past few months I'll do something I never do and give you all a preview of the next chapter. (Drumroll please.)

And here it is!

"GRAAAHHH!!!"

And that's all you get. Enjoy.

By the way you can find the Hell!child Sideswipe picture here. Just remove the spaces.

http:// shy-light . deviantart . com/ art / Hell- Child -Sideswipe-69830720

Also, for more fic doodles, here

http:// shy- light . deviantart . com / art/Burying-the-Hatchet-Doodles-74320502

Reviews are loved, CC is greatly appreciated and flames are used for marshmallows.


	6. The Medic's dispute

Hey guys! I'm not dead yet!

Thanks for all the reviews. Also everyone was basically right. The song was Bohemian rhapsody by Queen ;)

So anyway I don't own and never will. The plot is mine though.

On with the fic!

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"I believe this list is accurate but please inform me if anything is incorrect," Prowl began in deadpan. "You left your duty as Chief Medical Officer without notifying any of the other officers in order to take over a different shift, you coerced a fellow Autobot in assisting you with the manipulation of another officer with the use of bribery, you knowingly misdiagnosed said manipulated officer, illegally _hijacked_ his work shift, once again without notifying any other higher up of this, manipulated and compromised the security of the Ark with reckless abandon and all of this was done by a blatant abuse of power. Did I miss anything?" Prowl all but threw the data pad onto the desk in disgust.

"Nope. That about covers it," Ratchet responded cordially. "And it sounds a lot worse when you say it that way."

"Ratchet," Prowl growled. "There are approximately seven major regulations I can think up from the top of my processor that you broke. At least two of those are serious infringements."

"Only seven? I could've sworn there were more then that." That statement made Ratchet receive a 'You're-pissing-me-off' glare from Prowl. The medic wasn't sure if he should've been honored of horrified by that. Normally that expression was reserved for Sideswipe or Jazz.

"Look. You misdiagnosing Red Alert with-"

"Schistosoma japonicum," Ratchet helped him along with a tone that clearly said he was already bored with being called to Prowl's office.

Prowl gave him an odd look. "That's an organic, parasitic worm. How would that even be possible?"

"It's not. That was the point." Ratchet shrugged.

Prowl felt like slamming his head into his desk. _Hard_.

Ratchet was one of the few mechs that had truly earned a high opinion from Prowl. He was a focused, no-nonsense mech when it came to his job and he was also possibly one of the most frightening Bots Prowl had ever known (Prowl had once seen Ratchet deck Starscream, who was probably well over a third larger in size, in the face because the seeker made a comment that trivialized death). While on call his utmost priorities were his patients and if getting them up and running long enough to see another day required tough love and a bit more bruising then they started out with then by Primus he'd get the job done. Prowl respected that.

Off hours, however, it seemed the 'Bot lived only to antagonize and contradict everything Prowl did. In fact Ratchet probably back-talked him more then anyone else in the Ark. More then _Jazz _even or _Sideswipe_.

At least when Sideswipe did it Prowl could throw a brig threat or oil duty his way to shut him up. Ratchet, on the other hand, was a bit more difficult to manage.

"By misdiagnosing Red Alert with Schistosoma japonicum," Prowl repeated icily, "You only helped compound his already delicate paranoia."

Ratchet's face was expressionless. "…That was also the point."

"You already know how unstable Red Alert's psyche is. The last thing we need is him finally being pushed over the brink because you made him fear for his life!"

"Prowl." Ratchet leaned over the desk, placed both of his hands on the shorter mech's shoulders and gave him a completely serious look. "Red Alert always fears for his life. That's just who he is and what he does. Trust me, I'm the doctor and as such I have done more than enough scans and tests on him to know that the only medical ailment he seems to have is his chronic dippiness. I know his limits; I know that what I did didn't harm him in any way."

"You don't know that for sure," Prowl argued and shrugged the medic's hands off his shoulders.

Ratchet sighed in exasperation. "I wouldn't put an Autobot in a situation that could cause actual harm, Prowl. You know that."

"Says the mech who chucked a spanner at my head when we first met," Prowl mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Ratchet narrowed his optics.

Prowl quickly changed the subject and took a different angle to his argument. "You also had Wheeljack of all mechs take your place. Do you know the risk-?"

Ratchet cut him off sharply. "Yes, I did, and you know what? Wheeljack, believe it or not, is actually a pretty competent fragger when it comes to some of the broader parts of the medical field. He's eccentric, not an idiot. As previously stated, Red Alert was in. No. _Danger_."

"No Danger." Prowl parroted, though with less enthusiasm. "You clearly do not remember the worm Wheeljack made then," he muttered tonelessly.

Ratchet opened his mouth to retaliate but paused in confusion, taking a moment to figure out what Prowl was talking about. After that moment some rather unpleasant memories flooded his mind and he grimaced. "I'm the one who ended up knocking some sense into Wheeljack's damn head so yes; I remember the worm quite clearly."

Prowl gave him a look that was borderline smug.

Ratchet continued, "Alright. I admit that was one of his stupid moments. He's an engineer so it was only a matter of time before he decided to test the waters of bioengineering."

"The worm he made, if you recall, not only looked like a Cybertronian sized python next to _Omega Supreme_ but it also ate _**metal**_**.**"

Ratchet scowled. "I don't see what the frag that has to do with Red Alert."

"My point is Wheeljack, while having a bit of prior knowledge regarding engineering, was not skilled in any way shape or form in the art of _**Bio**_engineering and his trial and horrendous error almost led to all of us being digested in a larva's intestines and being turned into worm cast. _And _this is relevant because while Wheeljack may have some medical knowledge he is hardly qualified as a medic. Now, leading back to Red Alert's situation, if Wheeljack made a mistake while testing Red Alert for medical ailments he didn't have, while maybe it wouldn't be as disastrous as, how Jazz put it, _'Being eaten alive by a fraking huge piece of fish bait_' it could possibly have resulted in severe damage to Red Alert's person. "

Ratchet went tightlipped. "You are blowing this way out of proportion-"

"No. No, Ratchet, I am not. This whole insidious situation you put into motion behind my back, behind _Prime's_ back, was irresponsible and possibly threatened the security of the Ark. _You_ are not the security director. Red Alert is. _He_ can catch things that could be detrimental to our security that you can not. _You_ also compromised _his _health by having Wheeljack, who is not a verified medic in any manner perform medical tests on him even if they were simply to get him out of the way." Prowl paused. "Something could have gone wrong."

"Guess what, Prowl? Nothing happened."

Prowl narrowed his optics. "Regardless, you have committed a serious offense- several of them in fact."

Ratchet had a here-we-go-again look in his optics and replied with a listless, "Yes."

"Offences worthy of serious reprimands," Prowl elaborated.

"Yes."

"You could go to the brig."

"Yes."

"You could lose rank over this."

"Yes."

"Are you actually listening to me?"

"No."

'_They will be the death of me.' _Prowl thought. _'All of them. Jazz. The twins. Ratchet. All of them.'_

"Red Alert is back on call where he's supposed to be and in tip-top condition," Ratchet began. "Wheeljack is in his lab building that atomic vacuum cleaner of his, and as soon as you let me go, I will get back to my shift. If you have nothing left to say_ I _say we move on with our lives." Ratchet turned to leave.

"Ratchet. Ratchet, Come back here! We're not through!" Prowl bellowed. Ratchet didn't even lose stride.

"Yes. Yes we are. Now if you excuse me I have things I need to do." Almost as if it had been preplanned an explosion reverberated far off in the distance. Prowl and Ratchet went quiet. "Like apparently welding Wheeljack's limbs back to his body." With that he continued his walk. Prowl glared after him.

Ratchet simply had no fear of retribution or militant rank. It would get him in trouble one day, Prowl was sure.

Prowl made a tired noise. "What was the point of it all?" Prowl asked suddenly and quietly, almost too quietly for Ratchet to hear. The medic pivoted around to face him. Prowl looked him directly in the optics with a fiery gaze. "Why did you go through all that trouble just to have the security shift for a little while?"

Ratchet's face brightened eerily and he appeared to be stifling a grin. An _evil_ grin.

Prowl began to regret asking.

In a few short steps Ratchet reached Prowl's desk and gingerly placed a tiny chip on its surface. Prowl stared at it dully.

"What is this?" The second in command asked monotonously.

"This is a recording of the security feed. Just watch it. Trust me. You'll be thanking me later for this." With that he went on his merry way.

When he was alone Prowl stared at the small chip for all of five minute before, against better judgment, he inserted the chip in his private computer. The recording began to play and he watched it intently. A tiny red and black mech appeared on the screen...

00000000000

"Man O' man won't Prowlers be surprised." Jazz had jovial glee in his voice and a bounce in his step.

"What's got you all happy?" Brawn questioned, taking long strides to keep up with the taller mech.

Jazz tilted his head and flashed a Crest commercial worthy grin. "Tell me, Brawn. Do you know what this is?" He held up a fragile, rectangular object between his thumb and forefinger.

Brawn squinted and looked at it. "It looks like a video tape."

"This ain't just any video tape! This is-" Jazz lowered and deepened his voice, "Return of the Living Dead." He cackled ominously afterwards but Brawn just gave him an unimpressed look.

"Is it good?" Brawn questioned with minor curiosity.

"Nope! It's terrible!" Jazz's smile never left. "In fact this is possibly the worst horror movie ever!" he said with unbridled glee.

"Oh. So it's a crappy video."

"Ah, but, Brawn, that's the beauty of it!" Jazz's voice bubbled over with joy. "Tapes like this are so bad that they're good! They're so horrible and clichéd that they're off the charts in awful and back to amazing! And this movie has the best zombies _ever_. An' actually findin' it? S'like strikin' the gold mine of amazingly good lameness!"

"I don't follow this bad-good thing." Brawn shrugged. "And Prowl doesn't seem like he'd be one to appreciate something like that."

"He wouldn't normally but that's what I'm here for. To expose his calculating, and sheltered self to things that're so retarded that they're awesome. You in? We can make room for a third party."

"Nah. That's ok," Brawn declined. "I'm more of a Rocky, First Blood kind of mech."

Jazz shook his head in mock pity. "My poor, deprived friend. You Pro'lly never even watched a human zombie movie before in your life, have ya?"

"No."

"You've got no idea on what you're missin'," Jazz said in a sing-song voice.

"Alright then. What am I missing?" Brawn smirked.

Jazz's posture slumped and his expression went blank. His head flopped aimlessly, his arms outstretched in front of him, and he began walking awkwardly along with a limp, dragging one of his legs behind him. A guttural moaning sound rose from his throat and in a gravelly voice he began with the, "Braaaaains. Braaaaaaains!" To which he started pawing at Brawn's head aimlessly as if in search for an organic's cerebral cortex.

Brawn laughed in good nature, swatting Jazz's hands away from his head. "I think I'll pass, you weirdo."

Without missing a beat Jazz returned to his normal fluid, gait. "Whatever, man. If you don't want your life to be _changed forever _then I can't help ya. You don't know what you're missin' though." They both turned the corner. The door to Prowl's office was plainly in view. "I'll just watch it with someone who can appreciate the finer things in life."

"You do that," Brawn chuckled.

Both were almost at the door to Prowl's office when an alien noise flitted through their audios causing both to freeze where they stood. They listened quietly and the sound came again if only for a fleeting moment.

"What the frag was that?" Brawn looked wildly around as the low noise came and went again.

"It sounds like it's comin' from… Prowl's office?" Both mechs walked up to the door, "Prowl?" Jazz was about to knock with his knuckle but what he heard stopped him.

From the other side of the door they could hear the strange sound again. It started softly, in short gasps, as nothing more then a chuckle, but then the sporadic amusement got louder until it became hysterical, gut wrenching, face contorting in both agony and glee, full blown laughter.

Both mechs were frozen in fear almost as if they had been paralyzed by a siren's song. Only it wasn't a siren's song. It was-

"Holy, hell." Brawn balked. "Is that Prowl?"

Jazz didn't reply. He remained steadfast in his spot; finger still crooked hanging in the air in front of the door.

At first he thought it was a trick, maybe something was messing with his audios, but after a few more seconds of listening he discovered that, even though the voice was somewhat higher in pitch from uncontrollable laughter, indeed it was Prowl, but it was Prowl like he had never heard before. Sure he had heard the tactician chuckle, maybe, but nothing ever to this level!

A heavy clang sounded and vibrated through the ground, both snapping Jazz out of his thoughts and leading him to believe that Prowl had probably fallen out of his chair. Yet, the apparent hilarity didn't cease. He could hear the second in command gasping, attempting to regain some control over the situation only to succumb to another bout of mirth.

"What the hell?" Brawn asked in complete confusion. "What the hell is so funny? What is wrong with him?"

Jazz backpedaled away from the door. "Ya know, if it's makin' Prowl, the same Prowl who shows as much emotion as a hunk of marble, laugh so hard it sounds like his transistor's about ta burst, I'm not sure I_ wanna_ know."

Brawn nodded sagely.

"And ya know what. I think I've had my fill of horror for tha day and I'm sure Prowl won't mind having to wait a lil' while before he can tear this movie's plot-holes to shreds." Jazz subspaced the tiny videotape he had been holding. "I'm done, and now I'm gonna go off to my happy place and listen to Billie Holiday." The rattled special ops quickly began retracing his steps back down the hall. Brawn followed.

As a particularly loud guffaw pierced the air Jazz and Brawn quickened their paces and fled.

The echoes of Prowl's howling laughter rang in their wakes.

00000000000

Sometime in the future later that day, Ratchet would find a case of Praxus Platinum high grade on his recharge berth, and then he would smile and then say, "I knew Prowl would get a kick out of that surveillance clip of the brick-headed brothers."

Prowl would also later completely drop any charges he had brewing against Ratchet and the topic would be left swept under the rug, completely forgotten.

0000000000

Meanwhile, as Prowl was getting floored both figuratively and literally, a tiny childlike mech, who much to his relief finally was on break, was thinking.

Megatron was the most evil, vile, conniving, bloodthirsty, cold, ruthless tyrant in the known universe (as believed by Cybertronians and a greater portion of the galaxy)

Due to recent events though, particularly those of the previous day, Sideswipe was beginning to think that the Crown of Supreme Evildom, which Megatron made so many foolishly believe he held, was already in the clutches of one more sinister.

"Evil, thy name is Optimus Prime," he grouched.

Sideswipe was sprawled on the floor of his room. Before his body change he never would've been able to stretch out completely on the small floor space of his, and his brother's, living quarters. Not that they needed their own little piece of the barracks to be that big or anything, but it was kind of nice to have the illusion of extra space.

Despite the circumstances.

Anyway, back to his mind's tirade on Prime.

Sideswipe knew better now, that was for sure. Prime's Mr. Clean fresh aura of pureness, kindness and ultimate good was just a façade to hide the truly sinister, twisted sadistic mech underneath. The Bot was not just the philanthropic, caring, patient mech he appeared to be. The guy had an evil side.

He had stood in that corner for the remainder of the Arks work hours. The entire time he had been exhausted from lack of recharge time, bored out of his mind and quietly scared of Optimus's looming, ticked off presence behind him.

It had been silent too. Prime was focused mostly on filling out some reports to go to Cybertron regarding their progress (or lack there of) on Earth, and also ratifying supplies requests that needed to be sent out. (Sideswipe prayed to Primus that one of those forms was for the parts needed to fix his body but he was too frightened to ask.)

For the first few minutes he was bored. Then boredom quickly changed to restlessness, and then that eventually evolved into something that was borderline narcolepsy.

It was some hour or so later that Sideswipe managed to scrape up enough courage to address his leader.

"Permission to speak sir?" Sideswipe's voice came up as a mangled squeak which was not what he was going for.

Prime didn't even look up.

"Sir. I've been standing here for a really long time. Don't you think this is enough?"

"No. Talk again and I'll be using you as a paperweight from now on."

The rest of that punishment was spent in silence.

Sideswipe's mind digressed off of Prime and he began to think about the injustices caused to paperweights throughout the universe and was thinking of banning together the lot of them to create a union. Together they would fight the oppression against paper weights, and other severely mistreated and underappreciated trinkets and doodads found around one's office, everywhere!

His plans were disrupted as he was shaken out of his thoughts, literally, when he felt a vibration run through the floor. Another followed, then another and another. The rhythmic tremors got stronger and stronger and the periodic thumping slowly got louder each time.

Someone, probably a big someone, was lumbering down the hall.

Eventually the heavy, clumsy footfalls ended right in front of Sideswipe's room. Lazily, the small bot tilted his head to face his door.

If it was a minibot trying to get holograms of his "condition" again he was going to unleash a horrific cyclone of frontline-mech whoopass. Who cared if the Bot he attacked was taller. If that was the case then Sideswipe would break the moron's kneecaps so he could comfortably pummel the idiot's face in.

There was a surprisingly light rapping on the door. Sideswipe poignantly ignored it. He wasn't exactly feeling social. Instead, he waited to hear the mech either leave or have the gull to keep pestering him. He didn't care really. It was their kneecaps on the line after all.

There was a grunt outside his door and if Sideswipe had known what was coming next he would have braced himself by shutting off all audio functions like Jazz usually did at officer meetings.

It sounded like someone took a Cybertronian sized sledgehammer to his door. The horrid pealing rang through Sideswipe's audios relentlessly.

With his hands clamped over said audios Sideswipe quickly rolled to his feet and crossed the room to the door in three mighty bounds. His door was still vibrating when he reached it and the red bot could clearly see a rather large dent that had not been there before decorating the middle of it.

The door flew open, grinding against it's track as it did so because of the newly acquired impression.

Sideswipe's statement started with a furious "What the hell is your problem!" and ended in a slightly startled, "Eep!"

He had good reason for being surprised though. I mean wouldn't anyone be somewhat jarred from seeing the broodiest of the Dinobot brood, who for some reason looked twice as large as he usually did even though in all actuality it was Sideswipe who was simply half his normal size, standing at his door?

"Snarl?" Sideswipe dragged the name out with uncertainty. He looked back into his room briefly then back at the Dinobot. "Did you need something?"

It was really weird having a Dinbot at his room. They normally steered clear of most Autobots, particularly the twins, and rarely made the effort to seek out an individual outside their group. The only _occasional _exceptions were Ratchet, Wheeljack and sometimes, though rarely, Optimus Prime if Grimlock felt the need to pester and undermine the supreme commander's authority.

So why was the possibly most unhappy, antisocial loner bot of the Dinobot team, who probably had more issues than the New York Times, standing in front of his door?

Oh, Primus. Had the others coerced the Dinobots into pestering him? Would there be no end to his humiliation?!

When he finally got back to normal, Sideswipe vowed, he would retaliate against these unjustices with such ferocity that the others would never know what hit them. Revenge of the likes never seen before would fall upon his fellow 'Bots and it would be swift and it would be ugly and it would be so awe inspiring of a vengeance spree that _Starscream _would probably take notes. It would come at the Autobots and would soar out of the left field like some horrible zeppelin of spite and they would all learn that you do not, _**ever**_, regardless of shape or form, take Sideswipe, private SpecFour mobile artillery soldier, lightly.

Well, at least that's what he planned on doing as long as he wasn't eaten by Snarl first.

Speaking of which, the giant stegosaur transformer stared at him owlishly. He was holding a flat rectangular something close to his chest and a small, in comparison to his size, Cybertronian writing utensil.

"Who you? Where Sunstreaker?" Without warning Snarl stuck his head through the door frame and scanned the quarters. He couldn't get any farther in. His massive, spiky shoulders wouldn't allow it.

"Hey! Watch it!" Sideswipe narrowly avoided being crushed under one of Snarl's huge hands as the Dinobot got on his knees and tried to steady himself. "What do you want with Sunstreaker?"

Unable to locate the "yellow" twin, the Dinobot retracted his head from the door and glared at Sideswipe. "What you do with Sunstreaker? Why he not here and why me, Snarl, not see you before?"

Sideswipe was about to reply his identity and thought better about it. Did he honestly want to reveal himself as being one of the Dinobot's daily, Autobot antagonists? Particularly while he was weak and powerless while the particular mech in front of him could shoot lasers out of his nose?

Oh whatever. It wasn't like his day could get any worse.

"_I'm _Sideswipe. What do you want with my brother?"

The Dinobot dropped his other hand on the floor and brought his face closer to the childlike bot, scrutinizing him with bewilderment. Sideswipe felt himself involuntarilly cringe.

The Dinobots were _huge_. Was this how a human felt next to a normal sized transformer?

"You the rusty colored one?" Snarl asked in complete confusion.

"Sideswipe," said rusty one corrected waspishly.

"Me, Snarl, not getting it. You say you rusty one, but you no look like Rusty one. Rusty one is mean, loud and Dinobots no like him. You tiny, and…cute," Snarl stated flatly.

Sideswipe, a mech known as a horror of the battlefield second only to his own brother and Optimus Prime, was just called cute by one of the Ark's surliest Dinobots.

He felt the last of his dignity die inside him.

"Where Sunny one?" Snarl growled impatiently as he picked up his dropped items.

"Why?"

"Today Wednesday," The Dinobot grunted like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Good job, Captain Obvious!" Sideswipe said with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Next we spell bat." Sideswipe mentally kicked himself. He wasn't in the best position to be making snide comments.

Luckilly it went over Snarl's head. "Me say name, _Snarl_. Not Captain Obvious. You dumb?"

Sideswipe said nothing.

"_Anyway_," Snarl began, "on Wednesdays, today, Sunstreaker teach me, Snarl…" Snarl paused, his brow scrunched as he thought hard for the next word. "_Chromatics_," He finally said, quite pleased with himself for remembering such a word.

"Chromatics? You mean color-" Suddenly Sideswipe realized just what Snarl was carrying with him. A sketch pad and Cybertronian sized pencil. The calculation balanced itself in Sideswipe's head and realization dawned on him. "Wait, you're implying that…You mean my _sociopathic _brother is giving you _**art lessons**_!?"

"Last week we do watercolors." Snarl grinned.

Sideswipe's mind broke for a good thirty seconds. "Primus. I need to sit down." He dropped where he stood and plopped into an indian style sit.

His brother was teaching a Dinobot _how _to draw. His cold, ruthless, antisocial brother was teaching an equally cold, ruthless, antisocial Dinobot how to _draw_.

It would've made more sense if the two were sharing sparring notes or if Sunstreaker was teaching Snarl the most effectiveways to give an enemy internal trauma with the use of a blunt object, but instead he was giving art lessons!

"Why is my schitzoid brother teaching you art? I thought you hate us? We never see you, we see _Cosmos_ more then you, and you never talk to us. You barely talk or even like _Wheeljack _and he's the guy who saved you all from being trapped in a moutain for_ eternity_." Sideswipe paused. "And my brother's almost worse then you at being social. I can't see you two striking up casual conversation over tea."

Snarl shrugged. "Me, Snarl, saw him drawing." The dinobot pantomimed scribbling in the air. "Me like his pictures. He draw everything in Ark. Me even saw Dinobot sketches! He also draw things me not see before."

There must have been some violence, cursing and wrestling involved if Snarl actually was able to get the sketch book away from Sunstreaker long enough to look through all of it. Sunstreaker hardly even let Sideswipe, his own brother, catch a glimpse of what he drew.

"Me wonder how him, who be so quiet and unhappy as Snarl, make something so…chearful. How he able to express himself not with words but with pictures. So me ask how and he show me."

"Wow," Sideswipe said woozily, still facing the aftershock of recent revelations. That was actually pretty deep for a Dinobot, though knowing his brother he guessed whatever had conspired was not nearly as simple as Snarl made it sound. Still, who would've guessed that two manic, antisocial cases would bond over scribbles? "That's…really strange."

"Art make Snarl happy," the Dinobot said straight-faced and in deadpan.

"Alrighty then." Sideswipe raised a brow ridge.

It surely didn't seem like it made him happy based on expression and demeanor. Then again, you couldn't judge a book by it's cover. For instance who ever would've guessed that Sunstreaker spent most of his vacation and leave time in Italy simple so he could admire the renaissance art? (and perhaps to compare himself to other Italian sports cars if he had time)

Not many mechs and those few who did kept the information to themselves out of fear of being caused boddily harm by the egotistical mech.

"Now, where Gold one?" Snarl, well, snarled impatiently.

Sideswipe looked at the Dinobot strangely. Did he detect the tiniest bit of worry, underlying the massive dinoformer's voice? "Not here," he replied.

"Where he?" Snarl clutched his sketchbook closer to his chest and dropped completely to his knees. The subsequent clang of his landing boomed through Sideswipe's audios causing them to ring again. All the noise pollution was beginning to give him a headache.

"He's still on-" Sideswipe cut himself short.

Sideswipe was either getting an epiphany or a migraine. He wasn't entirely sure which yet. For all he knew, it could've easily been both given the circumstances.

Anyway, the incoming epiphigraine was related directly to the rather unexpected and not entirely welcome visitor he had received. An evil idea planted itself in his mind and from the petty, vengeful seed a vile plan began to blossom.

Time for theatrics.

"The Autobots sent him far away…" Sideswipe sniffled dramatically.

"What?" Snarl asked in confusion, dropping his sketch pad. "Why? Why they do that?"

"Because they're mean, ungrateful bastards who are trying to cause Sunny and me a lot of pain," Sideswipe said sadly. With watery violet-blue optics he looked at the bemused Dinobot. "Th-they took my brother away," he hiccupped.

Actually, Sunstreaker was somewhere in the desert with Trailbreaker and some other guy to fix a satellite, but that was only a minor technicality.

Sideswipe was gambling a lot with a little but if he played his cards right….

"They take him away?" Snarl asked quietly, slightly panicked. "If he gone, who teach Snarl crosshatching and stippling? We not even start perspective yet!"

Sideswipe shrugged grimly. Apparently the Dinobot was more worried about his art lessons then his art teacher.

The Dinobot stood still like a lost child, still clutching his pencil. Sideswipe could almost see the cogs creaking to life in the gruff bot's mind. Apparently coming up with a solution, Snarl's blue optics flashed brightly for a second, but then his lips drooped into a frown and it seemed like he was rather unhappy with the decision he came to.

Finally he spoke though begrudging was his tone. "Me take you to Grimlock. He know what to do. He help."

'_And the bait has been taken.'_ Sideswipe thought sinisterly while keeping up his distraught child act.

A large, powerful arm wrapped around Sideswipe's waist and the little mech found him self lifted into the air and pinned to Snarl's side.

He hadn't been expecting that part.

"What the? Argh! Let go of me you scuzzbucket!" Sideswipe dropped his front briefly. He was ignored and the Dinosaur mech took off down the hall with heavy, lumbering steps. "Excuse me, I can walk! So let go! I said let go, dammit! The power of Sideswipe compels you! Put me _**down**_!" His voice resonated through the empty hallway until he and the massive dinosaur finally disappeared.

Only the hallway _hadn't_ been empty.

Bluestreak had been on his way to Sideswipe's room with a Cybertronian sized super Nintendo under one arm and canister of low grade (he wasn't sure if the law of 21 applied to Cybertronians, since technically they didn't have kids to keep high grade away from. He didn't want to risk it though.) under the other, and arrived just in time to see the burly Dinobot go thundering by with a screaming, tiny Sideswipe held hostage under his arm.

Blue dropped what he was holding and stared blankly ahead.

He had _severely_ misinterpreted what had happened before him but before he could think it through his assumptions were etched into his mind.

"Oh no. The Dinobots kidnapped Sideswipe! They could kill him while he's like that! I've- I've gotta tell Prime." Bluestreak tore off in the opposite direction in search of aid.

So the two acts of stupidity went their separate ways with the promise that when they collided once again, a mess of untold proportions would be released.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sorry it's a bit shorter then usual but the chapter decided it wanted to end where it did and who was I to stop it.

Luckily it's summer vacation now so I'll try to upload more frequently… Of course by saying that I've basically jinxed myself into succumbing to a bout of writers block. Ya never know.

Any way reviews are loved, flames are used to toast marshmallows and constructive criticism is highly appreciated.


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